The Rebirth
by Irina
Summary: A thousand year old power is reawakened and Ginny must decide--how much is she willing to sacrifice for her destiny? Romance, adventure, drama, cosmic fate, and a scary Celtic goddess. [Part one in a trilogy - COMPLETE]
1. Prologue

October 31, 1981

Title: The Rebirth--Prologue  
Author name: [Irina ][1]  
Author email: Irina4@ivillage.com   
Category: drama, romance  
Keywords: Ginny, destiny, angst, romance, drama  
Spoilers: All four books  
Rating: PG-13

Summary: So why _did_ Voldemort try to kill Harry? An ancient power has reawakened and the answers to all the mysteries lie with Ginny Weasley.  
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
Author's Notes: Thanks to Danette, my way-cool beta reader, and Gokuh4060 for listening to me think out loud and helping my imagination along quite a bit.

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**Prologue**

  
  
  


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October 31, 1981 

The wizarding world was dreaming. 

It had been the same dream, night after night, for months on end. Some had tried to resist the nightly visions by staying awake, thinking they could avoid what some power greater than themselves wanted them to see, but such attempts were unsuccessful. They could no more run from the dreams than stop the sun from rising. Every night it was as though someone had slipped a Draught of Living Death into the drinks of every British wizard and witch. The next morning, memories of the dream melted away like ice in summer. No one could recall the night visions; they only remembered the awe and terror the dreams inspired. 

Most believed that the Dark Lord was behind it. 

Albus Dumbledore knew better. 

He readied for bed that night, hoping that, for once, he would be able to remember in the morning. He knew it was vitally important to his cause, and to the life of at least one person of his acquaintance, that he be able to recall the dream he and every other wizard in Britain had shared each night for the past two months. 

Just before he blew out the candle, a head appeared in the fireplace. It was Alastor Moody, one of Dumbledore's most-trusted allies and the most talented Auror at the Ministry. 

"Any news?" Moody growled, his head engulfed by the flames. 

"None yet," Dumbledore replied. "If it's going to happen, it will be tonight." 

Dumbledore had read the signs. He was one of only two wizards in the world who were skilled enough to feel the radical shifts in and redistributions of power that had happened along the magical plane in the last few months, and he was certain he knew what was coming. He was certain Voldemort knew as well. This was Samhain, the night of nights. Tonight the world of men would be open to the Otherworld, where the gods and sorcerers of old watched and waited. If it was going to happen at all, it would be tonight. 

Moody hesitated a moment. "Sleep well," he said, and vanished. 

* * * * *

There was blackness, deep and opaque. The crowd huddled together, sharing the warmth of their bodies, hoping that the sheer number of them would be enough to deter any attack that might come out of the dark. 

Suddenly, a wave of heat, almost intolerable in its intensity, washed over the crowd. 

A tremendous ring of fire sprang to life around them. It burned as high as their eyes could see, the heat oppressive and unrelenting. The fierce red and gold of the flame was almost too bright to look at. It was not the sort of flame that burned cheerfully in the kitchen; it was a fire that consumed and destroyed, that would ravage the earth if not controlled. Some of the crowd began to weep, others began to scream and beg for help, forgiveness, and their lives. It had been like this every night, and at this point the dream usually ended. 

But tonight the dream would be different. A column of silver light shot up from the earth in the center of the circle. It was pure energy, magical power of a strength beyond anything they had ever thought possible. Those who tried could almost make out the shape of a person inside the light, but no one could bear to look for more than a second or two. This silver energy made the fire seem no brighter than the glow of a candle. It threw all the people in the crowd into stark relief, illuminating half of their faces with an unforgiving power, leaving the other half in the absolute blackness. 

The people covered their eyes. They dripped with sweat and many sobbed in terror. The spark of magic that they each carried within them was dwarfed immeasurably next to this unrelenting silver force. Most of them fell to their knees, overwhelmed by the light and heat and fire and power of the dream but, more so, in awe of the person obviously responsible for the dream: the figure bathed in silver light so bright that none could make out the person's identity. 

Two silver arms stretched from the light, palms up. A sword rested on those palms in a gesture of submission, like a medieval knight, swearing fealty to his overlord. The blade of the sword was clear, made entirely of diamond. The handle was made of platinum and a platinum dragon wound around the base; one of its eyes shone red, the other green. Like the person in the column of power, the sword glowed silver, so bright that it was painful to look at. Dumbledore knew exactly what it was, and he almost collapsed in relief. It was tonight; he had not hoped in vain. 

The heat and light were intolerable. Just when some thought they would go mad, the person inside the awesome column of pure silver power spoke. The voice was clear and cool, obviously free from the terror of the crowd. 

"I have come to set the world on fire." It was a promise, a solemn oath sworn with one of the most powerful magical items ever created. 

"Who are you?" some terrified person screamed. 

The hands raised the sword to shoulder height, and the voice came again, majestic and stern, yet Dumbledore detected a hint of amusement. 

"I am your servant. And your sovereign." 

* * * * *

Molly Weasley woke with a start. She knew that she had had the dream again, but its details were sifting away as they always did. She tried to catch hold of them but, like all the nights before, she had no memory of what had happened. She only knew that the dream frightened her; she woke in a horrible state of awe and terror. Then a pang came, the reminder came of why she had woken in the first place. 

"Arthur," she whispered, not wanting to wake the children, asleep in their rooms. Another wave of pain, and then she shook her husband's shoulder. "_Arthur_," she whispered more urgently. He rolled over and sleepily opened his eyes. "Arthur," she said more calmly, now that she had his attention, "Go downstairs and call the midwife. The baby's on the way." 

* * * * *

Voldemort opened his eyes slowly. It had been so long since he had needed to sleep, but now these dreams came nightly and he was powerless to resist them. All around him, his Death Eaters slowly regained consciousness. Voldemort did not remember the dream, but he knew what it meant and the sense of urgency that the vision had given him remained. The Dark Lord knew what had to be done, and that it had to be done tonight. He picked up his wand and motioned for a few of his most loyal servants to accompany him. 

"Where are we going, my lord?" asked Lucius Malfoy. 

"Where do you think?" Voldemort replied. "To Godric's Hollow." 

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. 

"Tonight is the night," Voldemort said. "If it is ever going to happen, it will be tonight. And we have to be prepared. The future of our cause rests on the events of this night." He fixed his servant with a sharp, assessing look. 

Lucius inclined his head. "I understand, my lord." 

Voldemort smiled a ghastly smile. "I rather thought you would." 

* * * *

After the figure surrounded by the silver power made its pledge, the dream melted away. Dumbledore slept soundly for a few hours more, until he was woken by someone pounding on his door. His mind, thanks to years of practice, was wide awake immediately. He pulled the door open and came face to face with Severus Snape. Dumbledore only had to take one look at his face to know what had happened. 

"James and Lily," he said. It was not a question. Snape nodded mutely. "And young Harry?" Dumbledore asked quietly. Snape hesitated and Dumbledore felt something seize in his chest. Would it all have been for nothing? 

"He's alive," Snape finally said, and Dumbledore let out the breath he had been holding. "The Death Eaters have planned no other attacks on children, sir," Snape continued, beginning to pace in agitation. "Harry Potter was the only target but we both know there should have been one more. I don't know where the Dark Lord is, but since he failed to kill Potter it stands to reason that he'll go after the other. He'd never leave both of them alive. There's still another boy in danger somewhere, and I have been completely unable to discover who." 

Dumbledore shook his head. "He must be confident of the second child." 

"I don't understand," Snape replied, but it was a lie. He understood perfectly. He just wanted to hear Dumbledore say it out loud. 

Dumbledore failed to rise to the bait. He fixed Snape with a solemn, unblinking look. 

Snape bowed his head for a moment, and then turned on his heel and left the tower without a word. Dumbledore sighed, and then went looking for his shoes. He had to make arrangements for young Harry Potter's safety. He could do that much, but then everything would be out of his hands for a time. Fate would take care of the children until they were old enough to come to Hogwarts. Dumbledore was tired, but he knew that the dream would not come again, and so later he could get a good night's sleep for the first time in months. 

* * * * *

   [1]: http://us.f137.mail.yahoo.com/ym/Compose?To=Irina4@ivillage.com



	2. The Burrow

Harry Potter was having the worst summer of his life

Title: The Rebirth--Chapter 1  
Author name: [Irina ][1]  
Author email: Irina4@ivillage.com   
Category: drama, romance  
Keywords: Ginny, destiny, angst, romance, drama  
Spoilers: All four books  
Rating: PG-13

Summary: So why _did_ Voldemort try to kill Harry? An ancient power has reawakened and the answers to all the mysteries lie with Ginny Weasley.  
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
Author's Note: Thanks again to my ever-super beta-reader Danette and to my fabulous brother, Gokuh4060, for being my muse. His story, The Importance of Being Ron, is on fanfiction.net. Please check him out and don't forget to leave a review. He loves reviews.

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**Chapter 1**

The Burrow

  
  
  


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July 25, 1997 

Harry Potter was having the worst summer of his life. Only two months had passed since the end of his sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but the weeks had dragged by like years. When he said goodbye to his friends at the end of last school term he adopted a rather philosophical attitude towards his situation, but that had eroded after only two days at number four, Privet Drive. Every time Harry heard a creak on the stairs, an unexpected cough from one of the Dursleys, or a car driving past the house, he nearly jumped out of his skin, convinced that the dark wizard Voldemort and his followers, the Death Eaters, had finally found him. What with spending nearly every waking moment in a state of anxious watchfulness and his sudden starts whenever he saw something move out of the corner of his eye, it was as though Harry had developed a rather alarming and unfortunate twitch, which only served to further convince the Dursleys that Harry was a threat to the normalcy of life on Privet Drive. He was more of an outcast in their house than he had ever been before, if that was even possible. Although Hedwig, his snowy owl, brought him regular letters from his best friends, Harry missed them terribly. 

The fact was, Harry just didn't feel safe from Voldemort at the Dursleys' house. True, he had escaped from Voldemort at the end of fourth year, but as far as Harry was concerned that had been nothing more than a lucky fluke. He was highly unlikely to be able to lay his hands on a Portkey should the Death Eaters come to Privet Drive, and the Dursleys would be no help whatsoever. They would probably beg Voldemort to take him. At the time of the confrontation, Voldemort had been newly reembodied, and Harry supposed that he had not yet been at his full strength. 

Two years had passed since then, and once again the Dark Mark was a regular feature in the sky. Dumbledore had, of course, been working tirelessly against Voldemort since that night in the hospital wing after the third task, but he had fallen out of favor with Minister Fudge and was forced to carry on the fight in secret. The Death Eaters were too politically powerful; they blocked him at every turn. But now, Voldemort had regained all his old strength. He was back at the height of his powers, and, too late, the wizarding world finally realized that their unwillingness to acknowledge his return had made his second rise to power much easier than the first. 

Harry understood what his godfather, Sirius Black, had meant when he described the first reign of terror. No one knew who to trust. How to tell who were spies for Voldemort, or who was under the Imperius Curse? The Dark Mark appeared almost nightly. Muggle tortures and killings added to the chaos that typified the Ministry lately. And, as far as Harry was concerned, the scar on his forehead might as well have been a target. The entire wizarding world knew that he would graduate from Hogwarts in a year, and already editorials in The Daily Prophet were reassuring a terrified populace that surely Harry Potter would save them a second time. Harry was enrolled in Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts, but he was far from the best student in the class and he had no idea how on earth he was going to protect everyone from Voldemort when he couldn't even protect himself without Dumbledore's help. 

Harry knew he would feel much more secure with fully-grown, fully trained wizards around, which was why he was desperately looking forward to receiving an invitation to stay at the Burrow with Ron and the Weasley family. Besides his two magical parents, Ron's five older brothers had already graduated from Hogwarts and his younger sister, Ginny, was some kind of transfiguration and DADA savant; her marks in those classes were even higher than Hermione's had been. Harry watched every day for Pig, Ron's owl, hoping he would bring an invitation to stay at the Burrow for the rest of the summer holidays. 

Harry was drawing an X through July 25th on the wall calendar he used to count down the days until his return to Hogwarts when Pig rocketed through Harry's window with a scrap of paper tied to his leg. Harry eagerly unrolled the small scroll with one hand, crossing the fingers on his other. He let out a sigh of relief as he read the first sentence, and then devoured the rest of the brief note, eager for the feeling of connection with the wizarding world that Ron's letters provided. 

_

> Hi Harry! 

> Dumbledore has finally said that you can come stay with us. Mum and Dad have been keeping after him since the end of term. It's a miracle that Errol isn't dead from all the trips he's made to Hogwarts. Anyway, be ready to leave on the 30th at about 11:00 in the morning. See you in a few days! 

> Ron

_

Harry grinned. July 31st would be his seventeenth birthday, and he couldn't think of a better gift than to stay with the Weasleys for the rest of the holidays. He fired off notes to Hermione and Sirius, letting them know where he'd be, and scribbled a short letter to Ron, thanking him for the invitation and promising to be ready on the thirtieth. 

* * * * *

When Harry informed the Dursleys of the Weasleys' invitation that night at dinner, Uncle Vernon hit the roof. 

"Those red-haired freaks are not coming here! Need I remind you that the last time they were here to pick you up, they demolished an entire wall of the house and _attacked my son_! Absolutely not. They _will not_ come back, _ever_, and you can leave the table immediately and write them that you're not going." 

"I wasn't asking your permission," Harry retorted icily. "I was telling you that they were coming to get me as a _courtesy_. Although why I would even bother being courteous to you three is a complete mystery." The last sentence had been muttered under his breath, but Vernon still heard him. 

"That's it, boy. Up to your room, NOW!" 

Harry trudged up the stairs and gave his door a satisfying slam. His stomach growled with unsatisfied hunger and he knew that Aunt Petunia would devise an endless list of disgusting chores for him to complete for tomorrow, but he couldn't keep a silly grin of relief off of his face. The Weasleys were coming to get him in four days, after his seventh year was over he would never have to return to Privet Drive, and once he was at the Burrow he could stop looking over his shoulder every two seconds, expecting the Death Eaters to be closing in behind him. 

* * * * *

Sure enough, Aunt Petunia shook him awake at six o'clock the next morning. While he opened his eyes and fumbled with his glasses she gave him a curt, "Get up. You'll be working outside today." 

Harry knew the day wouldn't be fun, but he kept his mind on the Burrow and remembered that he only had three more days of slave labor for the Dursleys and then he would never have to see them again. The thought of a Dursley-free existence was pleasant enough to sustain him through an entire day of spreading manure in Aunt Petunia's flowerbeds. 

Over the next two days, life at number four became more and more tense. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were even more anxious about the Weasleys' arrival than they had been last time. They day before they came, Uncle Vernon asked Harry, "And how will they be coming this time? I will not tolerate flying carpets or other such nonsense." 

"Flying carpets are illegal in Britain," Harry replied absently. He was busy scrubbing out the dustbins. 

Uncle Vernon's big, beefy face turned purple. "Are you mocking me, boy?" 

"_No_," Harry replied. "I don't know how they're planning to get here, but it definitely won't be by flying carpet." Truth be told, he had no idea how the Weasleys were planning on getting him and his trunk, heavy with his school things, from Privet Drive to the Burrow. Floo powder had proved to be a spectacular failure, and they no longer had a car, as theirs was currently running wild in the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts. By broom maybe? But how would they move his trunk, and keep the Muggles from spotting them as they flew? Well, anyway, he was sure they'd think of something, and Harry supposed he'd just have to wait a few more days to see what it was. 

* * * * *

Harry woke up early on the morning of the thirtieth, excitement and happiness flowing through him. He had waited for this day for almost sixteen years—the day he would leave the Dursleys forever. He got out of bed and put on the outfit he'd laid out the night before; all of his other clothes were stowed away in his trunk. When he came down to breakfast, the Dursleys didn't even look up at him. Dudley was incredibly fidgety and Aunt Petunia was fussing over him, baby talking and patting his hand like he was some kind of invalid. Uncle Vernon kept looking through the kitchen door to the living room with an anxious expression. He was fervently hoping that this visit from the Weasley family would leave his house intact. 

Harry dragged his trunk out from under the stairs and sat on it to wait. From his vantage point he could keep an eye on the grandfather clock in the front hall and count down the time till he could leave the Dursleys and their disgusting house for the last time ever. He watched the second hand tick closer and closer to eleven o'clock. Three seconds, two, one… 

Brrring! 

The doorbell rang. Harry stood, but Uncle Vernon got there first. Aunt Petunia and Dudley bunched behind him blocking Harry's view of the door so he ran up a few steps on the staircase to see over their heads. Uncle Vernon pulled open the door to reveal a petite girl with shoulder length red hair standing on the porch. She looked a bit surprised to be faced by the entire Dursley family, but she gave them all a friendly smile. "Hi," she said. "I'm here for Harry Potter. Is he at home?" The girl stood on her toes, thinking Harry might be standing at the back of the group blocking the door. She figured that this was Harry's family, and she had heard from her brothers that they weren't nice people, but she was a firm believer in giving everyone a chance before making judgements about them. 

"And who might you be then?" Uncle Vernon demanded. 

Her smile intensified. "Ginny Weasley. Very pleased to meet you." She stuck out her right hand, as her parents had taught her to do when introducing herself to adults. Uncle Vernon stared at her hand, but did not take it. Aunt Petunia turned up her nose and put her hands behind her back. Dudley blinked stupidly, but made no move to shake her hand either. 

Ginny's smile faltered. She was not used to people being deliberately rude to her and hardly knew how to react. She had only ever been treated unkindly by the Malfoys, and that was to be expected as Malfoys were very rarely pleasant towards anyone. She had expected better from Harry's family. Ginny withdrew her hand, flushing slightly, and asked again "Is Harry at home? He should have been expecting me." 

Then she noticed Harry standing on the stairs. He smiled at her and her grin came back full force, although her blush didn't go away. Harry had been expecting a sizeable portion of the Weasley family, or Ron at the very least, but that didn't mean that he wasn't glad to see her. He liked Ginny very much. She used to have a crush on him that was a bit embarrassing, but she seemed to have grown out of it in the last year or so. Once she had stopped stammering and blushing in his presence, Harry had discovered that Ginny was very good company. She was friendly and smart, assertive and very independent. "Hey, Ginny," he greeted. "I've got all my stuff ready to go. Can you give me a hand?" Ginny nodded and took a step towards the doorway, but the Dursleys stood firm. She offered them a cautious smile. "Could you please excuse me? I'm just going to help Harry with his trunk." 

They didn't move. Uncle Vernon towered over her. "No," he said. 

She gave him an odd look. "No?" 

"The last time members of your family came into my home an entire wall was knocked down. Your kind are not welcome in my house." 

Harry was just about to speak up in Ginny's defense when she broke into a relieved laugh. "Oh, I see! I heard about the floo incident. Don't worry," she gave them what she hoped was a reassuring look. "It was just a misunderstanding. That's why none of the others came along. Mum was too afraid they might try something, so she sent me. And I didn't even bring my wand along, so you don't have to worry about any magic happening or anything." 

To her surprise, the Dursleys weren't reassured. Rather, they all looked even more offended by her presence than they had before. Uncle Vernon leaned down until his nose was about an inch from hers. **"We do not tolerate mention of your _abnormality_ in this house,"** he yelled in her face. **"Now take the boy and get out of here. Don't you ever come near my family again."**

Ginny took a step back, shocked. Mr. Malfoy had never been this bad, not even when he picked a fistfight with her father in Flourish and Blotts her first year at Hogwarts. She tried to catch Harry's eye, hoping for a clue on how she should handle the situation but Harry was staring at Uncle Vernon with disgust and hostility written all over his face. All of the Weasleys had a temper and although she had to be pushed quite far before losing hers, once angered Ginny was a sight more volatile than the rest of her family. Had it been up to her, Vernon Dursley would be belching slugs right about now, but she didn't want to attack the uncle of her brother's best friend. Plus, breaking the restrictions on underage magic was serious business. Mum would probably ground her until she was a hundred and twenty. Quickly weighing her options, Ginny decided that putting a little scare into the Dursleys would be an acceptable compromise between letting Vernon yell in her face without standing up for herself and cursing the living daylights out of him. She pulled out her wand. Now it was Uncle Vernon who took a step back. 

"I thought you said you didn't bring a wand," he said, the slight tremble in his voice betraying his fear. 

Ginny wasn't smiling anymore. "Harry, are you ready to go?" she asked, eyes narrowed, craning her neck to see around the Dursleys. 

"Yeah, I just have to get my stuff," he replied, rather impressed at how fast she had drawn her wand. She was calm and self-possessed rather than stuttering and tripping over herself as she used to do, and once again he thought how very pleased he was with the new Ginny. 

The Dursleys had retreated far enough for her to enter the house, but she didn't make a move to help Harry with the heavy trunk. She looked at the Dursleys contemptuously and, without lowering her wand, asked Harry, "Do you think you can get it yourself? It would probably be better for your relatives if I didn't come any closer." 

Dudley gave a frightened squeak, and Harry laughed. He was amused with himself; he had considered defending Ginny, supposing that she couldn't stand up for herself. He was being proved wrong now, and he couldn't wait to tell Ron about how his little sister terrified the Dursleys. Harry dragged the trunk to the door, leaving deep scratches in the hardwood floor of the foyer, and heaved the trunk onto the porch. Ginny looked back to have one last word with Vernon, but he had slammed the door just as soon as the trunk crossed the threshold. 

Harry and Ginny stood alone on the porch, the trunk between them. She flushed bright red and hastily tucked her wand back into her bag. "I'm sorry," she began tentatively, looking at her shoes. "I didn't mean to scare your family. Well, I _did_ mean it, but I didn't think that, um…." She trailed off, unsure of how to finish. 

"Don't worry about it. They deserved what they got," Harry said reassuringly. He thought that the assertive Ginny that scared the wits out of the Dursleys was vastly preferable to the old Ginny who stared at him all the time, and he was suddenly nervous that the old Ginny was about to reemerge. Her blushing was beginning to make him uncomfortable and he wished he knew what to say to make her stop. "Fred and George will be so impressed when you tell them." 

She gave him a tentative smile. "Do you think? Their toffee prank was so much better than anything I ever could have dreamed up. I didn't bring my wand so that I could threaten the Dursleys. I wasn't going to take it out, but then he yelled in my face and I, um, I just lost my temper, I guess." 

"Why did you bring your wand at all?" he asked. "It's not like you're allowed to use it or anything, what with the restriction on underage magic and all." 

"Oh, that. Well, mum and dad like me to have it in my bag when I go out, what with, you know, one thing and another." She trailed off, and there was an awkward silence. Harry knew that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were two of the people in the Wizarding world who were in Dumbledore's inner circle, and had been leaders in the fight against Voldemort ever since that night when the Dark Lord had formed a new body and reassembled the Death Eaters. The Weasleys wouldn't want their children to go about without protection, even in the muggle world. 

Ginny was embarrassed. She hadn't meant to bring up Voldemort, even indirectly. She imagined that Harry had enough of that during the school year and didn't need reminding of it during the holidays. She took a deep breath and reminded herself of the goals she had set for the rest of the summer holidays. Just that morning she had looked in her mirror and told her reflection _I will not act like a stupid prat in front of Harry Potter. I will not stare, blush, giggle, or act lovesick in any way shape or form. I will treat him the same way that I treat Hermione. Or Ron._ And she meant to stick to those resolutions too. She had nurtured a crush on Harry since she first heard his name and learned of the miracle that he had performed when he was only a baby. As soon as she was old enough to count she had figured out that he would be at Hogwarts at the same time as she would, and when Ron's letters came from Hogwarts his first year reporting that he and Harry had become best friends, Ginny could hardly contain herself with excitement. But all that was over now. Ginny knew that Voldemort had kidnapped Harry at the end of the Triwizard Tournament and that Harry had managed to escape, but she didn't know the particulars, except that Voldemort had returned that night and that he had been steadily amassing power ever since. Ginny knew enough, though, to understand that Harry didn't need or want a lovesick girl mooning after him; he needed friends who would be there for him and support him. He had Ron and Hermione, and Ginny had been determined to get over her stupid crush and be there for him in the same sort of way. She made a concerted effort the past two years to act as though she no longer loved the Boy who Lived. She ruthlessly expunged any mental and physical manifestations of her crush, or at least attempted to do so. The more she pretended the easier it was, until sometimes she thought she might even be over him. And her efforts had paid off; she had finally gained admittance to their tight-knit circle. She was just as much his friend as were Ron and Hermione. _Focus,_ she told herself. _You can do this. How hard could it possibly be?_ She looked at the trunk and then smiled at Harry. "Can I help you carry the trunk?" 

Harry was slightly startled at the sudden change in Ginny's face. One moment she had been blushing and stammering, and now she was looking directly at him, smiling and talking with confidence. "Where are we carrying it?" he asked. "All the way to Ottery St. Catchpole?" 

"That would be a bit far, wouldn't it? I came by Portkey," she explained, hefting up her half of the trunk. "We decided Floo was out of the question; it was such a disaster last time. Is there any place we can stash your things for a few hours?" 

"What, we're not going now?" Harry was confused. 

"Well, the thing is, we weren't sure about the accuracy of the Portkey. Percy made it, and he's been pretty distracted lately with stuff at the ministry. I didn't know how far from your house it would send me, so I had him set the return time for two o'clock just in case it took me a while to find you." 

"How far away were you?" 

"Only about four houses down, actually," she replied. 

"Well, Percy did a good job then." 

"Maybe," she couldn't keep a smirk off her face, "but he swore up and down that I'd land on your front porch. It's close enough, I suppose, but it'll drive Perce crazy when I tell him!" Her statement reminded Harry strongly of Fred and George when they were plotting some kind of mischief. 

Harry and Ginny dragged the trunk for a few blocks, until they came to a wall of hedges that bordered the neighborhood park. "We can hide my stuff in here," Harry offered. "Nobody will notice it." The two of them heaved the trunk into the shrubbery and then stood facing each other. Harry looked at his watch. "We have two and a half hours," he said. "Is there anything you'd like to do? Are you hungry? I'm afraid I don't have any muggle money." 

Ginny's face lit up. "_I_ have muggle money! Dad gives some to us each year in our birthday cards. Fred and George keep telling him that Galleons would be more useful, but I kind of like it." She pulled out a neatly folded stack of money. "Do you think we could get some quick food? Dad's told me all about it. You order your meal and they have it ready right away! I'd love to see how muggle ovens work so fast; I can't imagine them making a whole meal in just a few seconds. These quick food restaurants—" 

Harry cut her off. "It's called fast food. If you'd like to visit one that wouldn't be a problem, but it's not quite what you're expecting." 

She beamed. "I'm sure it'll be delicious. And educational." 

"You sound like Hermione," Harry teased. "Education during summer holidays?" 

Harry led her to the closest fast food restaurant. It wasn't too far from the Dursleys' house, and soon he and Ginny were waiting in line. She watched everything, wide eyed with curiosity, strongly reminding Harry of himself the first time he had ever been fully immersed in the wizarding world. As they got closer to the counter, Harry quietly explained how the food was available right away. "It's pre-made, and they keep it warm under heat lamps." He motioned discreetly towards the rows of hamburgers sitting on a shelf. 

Ginny looked confused. "So they're ready when you order because they've already been made? I thought it was called quick food because it was cooked quickly. You must think I'm an idiot." She looked faintly embarrassed. 

"It's okay," Harry smiled reassuringly. "I didn't know anything about the wizarding world when I first got there. You know more about Muggles than lots of witches your age." 

They ordered their food and sat in a booth. Ginny didn't like it much, but she didn't want to complain. She choked down as much of her cheeseburger as she could, but the whole thing was so bland and greasy that she couldn't help pulling a face. Harry laughed. "It's not quite what you were expecting?" 

"Do Muggles actually _enjoy_ this stuff? It's disgusting!" 

"Well, you don't have to finish it. Let's go do something else." Harry checked the time. They still had almost two hours to fill before the Portkey sent them to The Burrow. 

"Can we go to some of the stores that we passed on the way here?" Ginny asked hopefully. Harry didn't remember any stores of interest. They had passed a grocery store and an electronics warehouse but there weren't any bookshops or clothing boutiques on this street. Ginny looked so eager, though, that he agreed right away. 

Harry spent the rest of the afternoon trying not to laugh his head off. Ginny was so excited to see the laser scanners in the grocery store checkout lines that she stood and watched the cashiers for half an hour, an expression of amazement on her face. She used the last of her Muggle money to buy an issue of _Vogue,_ staring in wonder as the clerk rang up her purchase. When they went to the electronics store, Ginny's face shone with delight as she examined televisions, VCRs, CD players, and household appliances. She asked the salesman a million questions about plugs, electricity, and the insides of the machines. It was funny to Harry that she could be so fascinated with ordinary household items, but he figured that she would have thought the same of him during his first trip to Diagon Alley. 

Ginny couldn't get over how wonderful everything was. She wished that she had four more hours to spend in that electronics store, and she was mad at herself for not bringing a quill and parchment to take notes on everything she saw. She didn't want to leave out anything when she told her father all about the machines and how they worked. And she couldn't wait to get home and pore over her magazine, learning about Muggle fashion and looking at the strange pictures that didn't move. Soon, though, they had to head back to the park. 

Harry's trunk was still hidden in the bushes where they left it, so they tugged it out and sat it on the sidewalk. Ginny pulled out the Portkey, a small wooden box. She frowned for a moment. "If we set the box on top of your trunk and we both touch the lid, everything should come along just fine, don't you think?" 

Harry agreed, and so they checked the street for muggles and set up the box for transport. Suddenly, Harry began to laugh. It was so unlike any laughter Ginny had heard from him in almost two years—this was a laugh of joy, of pure happiness. "What's so funny?" she asked, smiling at the way his face lit up, his astonishingly green eyes dancing with delight. This was one of those times she was finding it hard to forget how she felt. 

"It's just now hitting me that I'm never coming back!" he exclaimed, a giant smile on his face. "After this school year, I'll be a fully trained wizard. I can live on my own, and I never _ever ever_ have to…." He trailed off, tipping his face up to the sun and sending a short prayer of thanks to whichever god it was that watched over unhappy and neglected children. He had finally made it. 

Ginny was happy to see him look so carefree and she thrilled to the sound of his laughter—it had been a sound she, Ron, and Hermione had sorely missed these past few years. But she couldn't help but think that there was nothing funny about Harry's joy. It made her sad that anyone could be so happy to leave his home, and so determined never to return. She squeezed his hand and said only, "I'm happy that you're happy." Then she pulled out her watch and counted down to two o'clock. "Three, two, one…" 

Harry felt the familiar pulling sensation that came with traveling by Portkey and then he felt his feet touch the ground again. He let go of the box and looked up to see Ron and Mr. Weasley dashing out of the house, big smiles on their faces. Mr. Weasley patted him on the shoulder. "Good to see you, Harry," he said. "So glad you could come." Then he turned to Ginny and demanded, "Tell me everything! Don't leave anything out. Did you see anything that runs on eckeltricity? Did you eat quick food? What was it like?" 

Ginny laughed. Her dad was so excited by Muggles and Muggle things, but he didn't really understand them very well. Still, she was bursting to tell him all about the things she saw and learned that afternoon, so, without sparing Harry and her brother a single backward glance, she walked off with her father toward his workshop. 

Ron picked up one end of Harry's trunk and helped him carry it to the house. "So how was the afternoon? Did Ginny trip all over her feet? I wanted to come too, but mum wouldn't let me." 

"She was _fine,_ Ron." Although he would never admit it to her, Harry had recognized the enormous effort it had taken Ginny to overcome her feelings for him and settle for just being his friend. He didn't tolerate her brothers' teasing, but that didn't stop them from doing it. "You know that she's finally gotten over the crush-thing," Harry continued, looking over his shoulder at Ginny and her father. Her voice drifted back to him, "Dad, it's called _fast_ food, not _quick_ food, and the hamburgers are made before you even get to the restaurant!" 

"_No_! Really?" Mr. Weasley was shocked. 

Harry looked back at Ron. "It's about time, I guess," Harry said. "I mean, she'd been at it for three years. She had to get over it sometime." 

With those words, something in his chest tightened. He had never acknowledged out loud that Ginny no longer had feelings for him. Sure, he had noticed, but he had never said anything about it. For the first time he wondered if maybe Ginny had found someone else. Harry had never had a girlfriend; he and every female student at Hogwarts knew that any potential girlfriend of his would be in danger and, anyway, even if some girl with a death wish ever expressed interest he would have no way to tell whether she liked him for himself or because he was the wizarding world's biggest celebrity. _And let's face it, it's not as though girls are falling from the sky,_ he thought ruefully. Although he had a growth spurt his fifth and sixth years that put him, at six feet even, just two inches shorter than Ron, and Quidditch practice had filled out his frame, he still saw himself as a gawky, skinny midget with broken glasses. At best, he felt awkward around girls, except for Hermione and Ginny. All of these factors had combined to ensure that he'd never had a serious girlfriend. Ron and Hermione had each other, but as far as he knew, Ginny had never had a serious boyfriend either, and he was absurdly glad about that, although he always pushed those feelings to the back of his mind where he wouldn't have to examine them too closely. "We had fun, actually," Harry continued. "You should have seen the way she scared my uncle!" He started the story as he and Ron carried the trunk upstairs. 

* * * * *

"Hermione's here too," Ron said as he and Harry entered the violently orange room. "She made Head Girl this year. She's at the store with Mum, but she should be back any minute. Dumbledore reckoned she was safer with us than with the Muggles." 

Harry froze, dropping his end of the trunk, and stared at his best friend. Ron sighed. 

"Sorry, Harry. I shouldn't have said it like that." 

"She wasn't safe at her house because of Voldemort," Harry said slowly, fighting to keep his voice steady. 

"Actually, Dumbledore said that it was because…." Ron trailed off, unable to think of a good lie. "Um, actually, yeah. He said that we should take some extra precautions because we're your friends. But we're _doing_ that, Harry! It's okay, I _promise._ Don't look like that." 

This is all because of me!" Harry's hands began to tremble, and he clasped them behind his back so Ron wouldn't see. "You and Hermione wouldn't be in danger if you weren't friends with me." He had a sudden, terrible mental image of Ron and Hermione lying on the ground, eyes wide open in fear, just like Cedric Diggory had been after Voldemort killed him. He felt like he was going to be sick. 

"Don't look at it like that--," Ron began, but Harry interrupted him. "Then how _should_ I look at it, Ron? This thing with Voldemort, this is my fight, not yours or Hermione's. I can't let you risk your lives for me." Harry took a deep breath. "When we get to school, maybe…maybe you shouldn't spend time with me anymore." It was the hardest thing he had ever said; Ron and Hermione were his first real friends. He cared for them more than he cared for anyone else and he didn't know what he would do without them, but he told himself that it would be selfish of him to want them to stick around when being his friend meant being a walking target for Death Eaters. 

"Is that what you want, Harry?" 

Both boys turned to see Hermione standing in the doorway looking concerned, and a little sad. "Is that what you want? For us to not hang around you anymore?" 

"I'm serious," Harry replied. He'd wanted to forget about Voldemort while at the Burrow, but that plan had been shot to hell within ten minutes and now he was giving vent to all of his fears, not for himself, but for the lives of his best friends. The fact that Dumbledore had sent Hermione to the Burrow made him realize something he had pushed out of his mind before: Hermione and Ron were in danger because he cared about them. He was determined to do anything it took to make them safe again. "You two could get hurt, or even killed because of me. I don't want…I just couldn't live with myself if something happened to either of you. It would be my fault." 

"Do you think we would just abandon you like that?" Ron asked angrily. "Don't be a prat, Harry. You're our _friend._ We're not going to drop you because of stupid bloody You-Know-Who." 

"Hermione had to leave her house because she wasn't safe there!" Harry shouted. "Once we get to Hogwarts, you two can't be seen anywhere near me, so you'd better leave me alone. I won't let you put yourselves in danger by being my friends." With that, he stormed out of the room and slammed the door. 

Hermione looked at Ron. "Does he really want us to stop being friends with him?" 

"He thinks he does," he replied, sitting on the bed and putting his head in his hands. "I don't know what to do." Ron looked dejected and confused. "I wish there was some way to make him understand that you and I…. He's such a stubborn prat!" 

Hermione sat down next to him and threaded her fingers through his. She and Ron had been bickering since she arrived, as usual. Not even dating for a year and a half had put a stop to that. But now, united in their concern for Harry, they weren't fighting for the first time in over a week. "He _is_ a stubborn prat," she agreed. "But he'll come around. In the meantime, we're not going to abandon him." 

"Of course not," Ron answered. He put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. "We're going to go on like everything is normal." 

"But everything _isn't_ normal, Ron, and we're not going to do Harry any favors by pretending that it is. There's a crazed psychopath who might want to kill us because we're friends with him. What we have to do is find a way to show Harry that we don't care about that. We could explain that we're not going to leave him, no matter what he says." 

Ron thought for a moment. She had a point. "We tried explaining that, just now. Since he didn't believe us when we _told_ him, what we have to do is show him. Maybe we should just pretend that the conversation never happened. You know, go on like everything is normal between the three of us. He'll eventually realize that we don't care about You-Know-Who." 

"Now _that_," Hermione said, kissing Ron's freckly nose, "sounds like a plan." 

* * * * *

Harry, completely oblivious to his friends' concern, came barreling down the stairs and into the kitchen, almost running Mrs. Weasley over. 

"Hello, Harry, dear," she said, scooping him into a hug. Harry froze in surprise. Mrs. Weasley had hugged him several times before, but he wasn't used to being touched and so it always caught him off guard. "You must be starving," she said, attempting to smooth his hair down. "Dinner's ready. Why don't you run out back and call Ginny inside for me." She turned back to the stove. 

"Um, okay," Harry replied, still thinking about Ron and Hermione. 

He wandered into the backyard and looked around for Ginny. She wasn't there. He sighed and started towards the back fence, but stopped short when he nearly walked into two bare feet dangling out of a tree. Harry looked up in surprise and saw Ginny sitting on a tree house platform about seven feet above the ground, her legs hanging over the side. 

"Hey, Ginny," Harry called. She didn't answer. He moved a little closer and saw that she was engrossed in a book and obviously hadn't heard. "Ginny," he called a little louder. Still no answer. Hermione was sometimes like that; when she was reading she became deaf to the world around her. Apparently Ginny was the same way. 

Harry reached out and tugged on her ankle. She gave a little shriek of surprise, and looked over the edge of the platform. "Oh, Harry! It's only you!" 

Harry felt a bit miffed. "_Only_ me?" 

"Yeah, _only_ you," Ginny teased. "What're you doing out here?" 

"Your mum wanted me to tell you that dinner is ready." 

"I'll be right down." Ginny dropped a rope ladder and scrambled to the ground with surprising speed. "It was Fred and George's when they were little," she said, nodding up at the platform. "I go up there to read quite a bit." 

"What are you reading?" Harry asked, but he didn't really care. He was playing the conversation with Ron and Hermione over in his head, feeling depressed at the thought of a year without them, but satisfied that they were both as safe from Voldemort as they could be. 

"It's really funny," Ginny replied, her face lighting up. "It's about a Muggle named Arthur Dent and his friend Ford…." she trailed off, seeing that Harry was a million miles away. 

"Harry, what's wrong?" 

"Nothing," he replied. "We'd better get inside." 

Ginny leaned against the tree. "Are you sure you're okay? You look like you've just lost your best friend." 

"That about sums it up," he answered, looking at the ground. 

Ginny sucked in a breath. "What's Ron done now? You know how he is, Harry. I'm sure that whatever he said, he didn't mean it. If you go back in and talk to him—" 

"It's not that, Gin," Harry interrupted. "He told me how Dumbledore sent Hermione here because she wasn't safe with the Muggles." 

"Well, yeah, but I don't see how—" 

"So, I never realized before that they're in danger because of me," he interrupted again. 

"Never?" she asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow. 

"I guess It just never registered before," he looked at the ground and shook his head. "I've been in denial. Anyway, I told them both that once school starts I don't want them around me anymore. I don't want their friendship if it means they're risking their lives." 

"I bet they didn't like that," Ginny replied quietly. 

"Ron called me a prat," Harry said ruefully, running his fingers through his hair. "But it's the best thing." 

"For who?" If Harry had been looking at her he would have seen that she was just barely containing her temper. 

"For _them_! For you! Don't you see that Voldemort is after them and it's all because of me!" 

"I know that Voldemort is after them, Harry. Ron might be _your_ friend, but he's _my_ brother." Ginny was still speaking in a dangerously quiet tone. 

"Well then you understand why I did it." 

"I understand _perfectly_, Harry." Ginny couldn't believe she was about to do this, but how many times in the past two years had she had promised herself that she would give Harry what he needed? Right now he needed a kick in the head. But she would settle for a lecture. 

Ginny pushed away from the tree so that she was standing almost toe to toe with Harry, looked up into his eyes, and took a deep breath. "Look, _none_ of this is your fault. Do you understand me? _None._ You didn't kill Cedric, Voldemort did. If something happens to Ron or Hermione, it'll be because Voldemort ordered it, not because of anything you've done. You _cannot_ accept blame for his actions." 

Harry flushed. "Well, then you understand why I can't let them be my friends anymore. It would be selfish of me " 

"Selfish?" Ginny demanded. "It couldn't possibly be as selfish as what you're asking them to do now." 

"I told them to stay away from me so they would be safe!" Harry was angry now. He bent down until his nose was only a few inches away from hers. "They're my _best friends_, Ginny. What I did was the exact opposite of selfish! I can't keep them in my life when they might get hurt. Do you have any idea what it would do to me if something happened to one of them?" 

He was beginning to intimidate her a bit, but she didn't show it. "Then don't try to tell me that you sent them away for their own good," Ginny said, drawing herself up as tall as she could. "You did this because if something happened to them it would hurt _you_. You don't want them to help you because _you_ might be hurt, and that's selfish." 

"Voldemort is after you because of me," he insisted, not knowing whether he meant all of them or just her. She laid her palm on his arm and he felt the anger and fear drain out of him, as though he had just taken a calming potion. Harry took a step back and was no longer looming over her. 

"If he wasn't after them because of you, it would be because of something else," Ginny pointed out gently. "Hermione is Muggle-born. Ron and I are Weasleys, and everyone knows we're on Dumbledore's side. All three of us are in Gryffindor. Even if we weren't your friends, Voldemort would probably still be after us. It's just as much our fight as it is yours, and you can't cut us out of it. You're braver than that." 

Harry didn't answer. He looked at her for a long moment, and she met his gaze although she felt strangely empty inside. _Please please please don't hate me_, she begged silently. _I only said what you needed to hear._

"I see your point." Harry finally said. He looked down. "I guess I should talk to them after dinner." 

"Yeah," Ginny replied, unsure of what to say. 

"Thank you, Ginny," he said quietly. 

She looked surprised. "You're welcome." 

His mouth turned up at the corner in a rueful half smile. "We've been out here so long; your mum probably thinks that I got lost. We'd better go eat." 

They walked inside together, Ginny elated that she stood up to Harry without stuttering or making a fool of herself and Harry relieved that he wouldn't have to face Voldemort without Ron and Hermione after all. 

Their smiles faded as they entered the kitchen. Ron, Fred, George, and Hermione were sitting around the table looking stricken, and Mr. Weasley was standing in front of the fire, his face creased with worry. Mrs. Weasley cried quietly. Dumbledore's head was in the flames, and he was saying, "Nobody could've seen it coming. They hit without any warning." 

"What's happened?" Harry whispered to Ron. 

"There's been a Death Eater attack," Ron whispered, sounding choked. "A bad one." 

"They said," George began, and he stopped to swallow hard. "They said that Mad-Eye Moody is missing." 

* * * * *

   [1]: http://us.f137.mail.yahoo.com/ym/Compose?To=Irina4@ivillage.com



	3. The Ring

Ron, Fred, George, and Hermione were sitting around the table looking stricken, and Mr

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Background info on Mórrígan came from [www.pantheon.org][1] and from the _Oxford Dictionary of Celtic Mythology_ by James MacKillop. Mike Fletcher belongs to me. Mórrígan belongs to herself.

Author's note: Thanks, as always, to Danette, beta reader extrordinare, and to Gokuh4060, with whom I am proud to share genetic material. I know I've put up the first three parts really quickly, but it's because they've been sitting on my hard drive for quite a while. I've just been working up the nerve to post them. This exhausts my pre-written material, but hopefully there's enough here for you all to speculate upon until I'm finished with chapter 3. Oh, and this morning I sent this story off to schnoogle.com, so maybe some of you will come by and take a look in a few days when it's up. As always, let me know what you think, especially about Mike and Mórrígan, my two original characters. I'm rather attached to them.

****

Chapter 2

The Ring

Ron, Fred, George, and Hermione were sitting around the table looking stricken, and Mr. Weasley was standing in front of the fire, his face creased with worry. Mrs. Weasley cried quietly. Dumbledore's head was in the flames, and he was saying, "Nobody could've seen it coming. They hit without any warning."

"What's happened," Harry whispered to Ron.

"There's been a Death Eater attack," Ron whispered, sounding choked. "A bad one."

"They said," George began, and he stopped to swallow hard. "They said that Mad-Eye Moody is missing."

"Missing?" Ginny echoed. "What does that mean?"

"What do you think it means?" Fred snapped. "The Death Eaters attacked, and now he's gone. They knew where he was, and now they don't! The Death Eaters must have taken him alive, or else they would've found a body."

Ginny didn't reply. Mad-Eye Moody had been a friend of her parents' for as long as she could remember. When she was young, his scarred face and constantly swiveling eye had terrified her, but as she got older she learned to see the good, kind man that lay underneath the grisly exterior. She fervently hoped he was all right. Being held prisoner by Death Eaters was everyone's very worst nightmare.

An uncomfortable silence descended on the kitchen after Fred's outburst. Finally, Harry asked, "What's being done to find him?"

"They're sending a team of expert aurors to head up the search," Mr. Weasley replied turning from the fire to face the group around the table."

"Moody _is_ an expert auror," Ron said glumly, "and they still caught him."

Mr. Weasley frowned at his youngest son. Dumbledore's voice drifted from the fire. "I've put together a team of five headed up by Remus Lupin and Mundungus Fletcher. Arthur and Molly, I know your house is already crowded but I'd appreciate it if you could take Michael for the rest of the summer; I don't know how long his father will be on this mission."

"Of course," Mrs. Weasley said, still sniffling. "We'd be glad to have him stay."

"Michael?" Harry whispered to Ron.

"Mike Fletcher," Ron replied. "He's a sixth year."

"You mean the Ravenclaw beater?" Harry asked, trying to place the name.

"Yeah," Ron said. "We practically grew up together. He was over almost every weekend. You'll like him."

"Why does he have to come here? Is his mum helping to find Moody too?"

Ron looked uncomfortable. "His mum died when he was a baby. She was one of the last casualties before…." His eyes flicked to Harry's scar.

Harry felt a stab of sympathy for Mike Fletcher; it must be hard to know that your only parent was going off on a dangerous mission, not knowing when he would come back, if at all.

Dumbledore promised the Weasleys that he would update them the moment he had any news on Moody's whereabouts. With a small pop his head disappeared from the fire.

"We'll have to hold dinner until Michael arrives," Mrs. Weasley said, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief. She took a deep breath, pulled herself together, and was suddenly all business. "Fred and George, you two can set up another camp bed in Ron's room. It'll be tight with three people in there, but there's nothing else to be done. Ron, set another place at the table. I'll just whip up a few more mashed potatoes, and everything should be—"

Suddenly, the fireplace crackled loudly and a person came tumbling out, one end of his trunk clutched in a death grip. Coughing, he stood and brushed the soot off of his clothes, then smiled cheerfully at everyone. Harry supposed that this had to be Mike Fletcher. At about five foot ten, he was only a few inches shorter than Harry. His hair was light brown, straight and completely free from the untidiness that characterized Harry's own hair. He had a nose that was somewhat on the longish side, and sharp looking blue eyes. _Well of course he looks smart_, Harry reflected. _He's a Ravenclaw_.

"Hello, all," he greeted. "I hate floo powder. I can't wait to get my apparition license. Mrs. Weasley, dinner smells fantastic." Everyone stared at him, startled at his abrupt appearance. He seemed suddenly uneasy. "You were expecting me, weren't you? Dumbledore said he'd let you know I was coming."

They all snapped out of their momentary trance. "Of course, Michael, dear," Mrs. Weasley said soothingly. "We just weren't expecting you so soon. Why don't you put your trunk upstairs and then come back down. We were just about to eat dinner."

Mike grinned at her. He loved visiting the Weasleys. Granted, this time his visit was not made under the best of circumstances, but he always tried to look on the bright side of things. True, his father was off on a dangerous mission but Mike had decided not to think about that for now. He was proud to have a father who fought the Dark Lord, and if Dumbledore asked Mundungus to go on a mission, Mike would be the last person to stand in his way. And it wasn't as though his situation was all that bad. After all, some of his fondest memories were of his time spent at The Burrow. Mrs. Weasley was always nearby with hugs and cookies, trying her best to be the mother he'd never known. He loved talking muggles with Mr. Weasley, learning curses from Bill, hunting magical beasts with Charlie, and borrowing books from Percy's extensive collection. He'd missed planning elaborate pranks with Fred and George, playing Quidditch with Ron, and he'd missed Ginny. Oh, had he ever missed Ginny. A slightly evil grin played at the corner of his mouth as he carried his school trunk up to Ron's room. On the day that, at age four, he had used a toy wand to turn her hair bright green, he had made a marvelous and fantastic discovery that had given him hours upon hours of happiness over the years. Mike had learned Ginny had a temper like no one else he'd ever met. And he'd learned that no one could bait her like he could. Teasing Ginny was so much fun to do, and now he could look forward to it for the next three weeks of summer holidays. Hoping that he would get to sit next to her at dinner, he dropped his trunk on Ron's floor and thundered down the stairs.

Ron had set the extra place at the table, and, just as Mike had hoped, he had put it next to Ginny's usual chair. She gave her brother a disgruntled look, but took the seat anyway. Mike dug into his food, making sure that, with every bite, his fork scraped across his food in a way she would find particularly irritating. 

He then turned his attention to the dinner conversation. Mr. Weasley was always aware of the politics and policies at the Ministry, and Mike always jumped at the chance to pick his brain. Mike wanted to go into the Ministry himself after graduation, so he never missed an opportunity to learn about it. 

They chatted about several inconsequential things, like who would be appointed to the Improper Use of Magic Office now that Mafalda Hopkirk was retiring, and the lack of support for Mr. Weasley's new Muggle Protection bill. But, the conversation inevitably turned to the difficulty the ministry was having recruiting new aurors. In the past two years, Death Eaters had killed many of the more senior aurors, and no one was willing to take their places. Ministry employees were frantic, wondering how they were supposed to fight Voldemort without any Dark Wizard catchers.

"My father said that he heard a rumor that Fudge is thinking of calling up an army to fight You-Know-Who," Mike offered. "Since the giants have joined up with the Death Eaters, dad reckons that the dark forces are too strong to be fought by the auror division alone, especially since their numbers have decreased so much."

"An army?" Hermione asked, surprised. "But are there even enough young wizards and witches to make up a full army? Enlistment would have to be mandatory or they'd never get enough people."

Mike knew Hermione Granger by reputation. Every night the Ravenclaw common room was full of complaints about how she always managed to earn higher marks than everyone else. Mike was an easy-going boy who didn't really have a jealous streak so he admired rather than envied her scholastic abilities. This, however, was the first time he'd ever spoken to her. "That's how the muggles do it," he responded. "When they don't have enough soldiers to fight a war, they conscript civilians. I learned about it in muggle studies last year." He took another bite. Ginny stiffened at the deliberate scrape of his fork on his teeth.

Hermione tilted her head to the side. "But don't you think there might be something wrong with conscription?" she asked. "If someone doesn't want to be a soldier, they shouldn't be forced into it against their will."

Mike glanced at Ginny out of the corner of his eye. He looked at Hermione and said, "It's not as though you'd have anything to worry about personally. They'd never draft witches into the army." Another sideways glance at Ginny: she was holding her fork in a death grip, her eyes firmly fixed on the table and her teeth clenched tight. This was going very well indeed.

"Why not?" Hermione asked, a small frown on her face.

"Well, Muggles never conscript females, do they?" he replied, an innocent expression on his face. He heard Ginny's sharp intake of breath next to him and smiled in satisfaction, "And they don't let the ones who volunteer fight on the front lines either. They must have a good reason for it, don't you think?"

"_No_, I do _not_ think," Ginny said through clenched teeth. "Most women might be physically weaker than most men and that would make a difference in the muggle world, but not in the wizarding world. If we have something heavy to move we can always use a levitation charm or transfiguration to make it lighter. If we have to move quickly we can apparate or, or—"

Mike interrupted her. "But what about—"

She didn't even let him finish his question. "You're such a pig," Ginny said scornfully. "Witches can do anything wizards can to. Some of the best aurors and worst death eaters are women and it doesn't make them any less tough."

"Ginny—"

"And _furthermore_, it's attitudes like yours that perpetuate prejudice against the abilities of women. Do you know how many female department heads there are at the Ministry? Only ten. Out of forty-six departments, only ten are run by witches. And it's because of people like you, _Michael_--"

"Ginny!" he finally managed to cut in. "I _agree_ with you."

"You what?"

He laughed. "While not drafting women is probably a necessity in the muggle world, Minister Fudge would be wrong to exclude witches from mandatory enlistment in his hypothetical army. Are you happy now?"

"But you said—"

"You didn't hear a _word_ I said, because you kept interrupting to lecture me on the importance of gender equality." He took a big bite of green beans, loudly scraping the fork along his teeth.

Ginny threw her napkin at him. "Stop it!" she exclaimed, her eyes blazing.

"Stop what?" he asked innocently.

"Stop…_eating_ like that. It's driving me mad!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said sweetly, and did it again.

Ginny turned to her parents. "I swear, if I have to spend the next three weeks with him I won't be responsible for my actions." She glowered at Mike, then pushed her chair from the table and stomped outside, slamming the back door behind her.

Mike gave the Weasleys his most charming smile. "Dinner was excellent Mrs. Weasley. I don't know when I've had such a good time. Would you mind if I went to bed early? I'm really tired."

"Not at all, Michael," Mr. Weasley replied. "I apologize for Ginny but really, do you really have to bait her like that?"

"I'm afraid so, Mr. Weasley," he answered, dropping a kiss on Mrs. Weasley's cheek. "If I didn't tease her, she'd think I was ill or something." He gave them all a cheerful wave. "Good night, all. Thanks again for letting me stay," he said, and thundered up the staircase.

"That boy has never learned to walk quietly," Mrs. Weasley observed with a sigh.

Harry got up to help the twins clear the table. He didn't know what to think of the Weasleys' newest houseguest. "What's up with them?" he asked as soon as he was out of earshot from the table.

"Ginny and Mike?" George replied. "They've always been like that. They can't be in a room together for more than five minutes without some kind of fight breaking out."

"They're kind of like Ron and Hermione that way, if you know what I mean," Fred added with a sly grin.

"Like Ron and Hermione?" Harry repeated, astonished. "You mean they're—"

"No, I don't think so," George answered. "They seem permanently stalled in the constant bickering stage and unable to move on to the kiss and make up stage."

"You think they're heading to the kiss and make up stage? I mean, if it hasn't happened by now it's hardly likely to in the future, right?" Harry asked, not liking the strange mental discomfort this train of thought was giving him.

"Well, Ron and Hermione took five and a half years to get there, didn't they?" George shrugged and handed Fred a dishtowel. "I don't know, Harry. If there's one relationship in the world that I've never been able to understand, it's the one between my sister and Mike Fletcher."

*****

Harry woke early the next morning. He pulled the pillow over his head trying to get back to sleep but soon realized it wasn't going to happen. He showered and dressed quietly, not wanting to wake Ron and Mike who were both snoring in their beds. The house was silent, all the bedroom doors firmly shut. Harry walked quietly down the stairs, careful to step over the ones that creaked. He padded over to the kitchen counter, thinking to make some toast, when he heard a soft curse coming from the living room. Instinctively pulling out his wand, he peeked around the door and sighed with relief when he saw the apparent originator of the obscenity: Ginny. She sat on the floor, surrounded by swaths of gauzy white fabric. A pair of scissors was in her hands and a fierce scowl was on her face.

"'Morning," Harry greeted, pushing the door open. "What are you doing?"

She raised her eyes to his. "I'm making new dress robes. Or a pathetic attempt at dress robes, anyway."

"I didn't know you could sew," Harry said, moving some of the silk and sitting across from her.

Ginny blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. "I can't at all," she replied. "Hermione's trying to teach me, but I really don't have the patience."

"Then why bother?" Harry asked, his gaze roaming over the complicated looking pattern she was trying to cut.

Ginny laughed. "Anything I make would be better than the ones I have now." He looked blank. "You do remember what my dress robes look like, don't you? I wore them to the Triwizard ball my third year." He still looked blank. She shrugged. "Well, I'm sure you would have noticed if you hadn't been so busy sulking over Cho Chang."

"Cho Chang?" Harry asked. He felt like the conversation was getting away from him. "But that was three years ago!"

"And my dress robes haven't improved with age," she retorted, sticking a pin into a pattern cutout. "So I'm making new ones for the ball this year."

"There's a ball this year?"

She blew the stubborn strand of hair out of her eyes again. "Dress robes are required for students fourth year and up. It's on the supply list. Don't you ever read your mail?"

"I just got here yesterday," he pointed out. "And your mum bought all my supplies last week when Ron's list came so there's really been no need, has there?"

"I guess not," she said, rubbing the back of her neck. "I've been down here for hours. I can't handle any more of this today. Hermione can look at it later. Can you help me fold this stuff? I want to get it hidden before…everyone…wakes up."

"Everyone meaning Mike?" Harry asked, and then he winced inwardly. He had no business asking her about Mike.

Ginny sighed. "He'd only make fun of me. I'm sorry about last night, Harry. Mike just brings out the worst in me is all. I was so glad that we were put in different houses. I don't know how I'd stand seeing him in Gryffindor tower every single morning, having every class with him and never being able to get away."

"You dislike him that much?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Not so much dislike," she replied thoughtfully. "I can't explain it. When he's not driving me crazy he's the best friend anyone could ever want. I don't know. Don't ask me to explain him; I gave up trying when I was eight."

Harry picked up an armful of the slippery silk. "You'll look nice in this, I think," he said, hoping to make amends for prying into her personal business.

"Hermione thought so," she said, gathering up her sewing materials. "I'm afraid it'll make me seem terribly pale, but she promised it would look good." Harry set the fabric carefully into the open sewing chest and turned back to Ginny. The lock of red hair had fallen into her face yet again, and she took a deep breath to blow it out of the way. Seemingly all by itself, his hand reached out and gently tucked it behind her ear, and then stayed there, cupping the side of her face. She froze, the breath catching in her throat. They stood there for a long moment, not moving, and then Ginny took a step back, pulling her head away from him, her cheeks as red as her hair. "Thanks, Harry," she said quickly, dropping her armful in the chest and shutting it with rather more force than was necessary. She backed away from him another step. "I'm just going to shower before everyone else wakes up. Maybe I'll see you later." She backed up a few more steps, and then turned on her heel and raced out of the room and up the stairs.

Harry stood alone in the family room, his hand still warm from the side of her face. _What just happened?_ he wondered.

*****

Ginny avoided Harry for the rest of the day. She took refuge in her tree house, bringing up one of her favorite books for company, but she couldn't think of anything else but that moment in the living room. What did he think he was doing, _touching_ her like that? Just when she was starting to get over him! The nerve! After all the work she'd done to forget how she felt, how dare he _remind_ her! Harry must have realized how difficult it was for her to push the crush out of her mind, and it was just plain _inconsiderate_ of him to make it even harder. 

But maybe, just maybe, he was starting to like her back. The very thought terrified her. The crush had been safe because it was one sided. She never had to worry that Harry might reciprocate her feelings. If Harry started caring about her, well, she didn't even want to contemplate the possibility. For one, her life would be in danger. Not that she really cared about that (after all, she was probably already in danger for being a Weasley), but it was something to consider, all the same. And there were other things to consider too—feelings and experiences infinitely scarier and more difficult than risking one's life. Was a relationship with Harry Potter worth it? She didn't know, and she wasn't especially sure she wanted to find out.

Even though she was fuming, Ginny still managed to read half of her book before someone discovered her whereabouts. She heard Mike calling up, "Hey, Ginny! Throw down the ladder!"

__

Maybe if I ignore him he'll go away, she hoped.

"C'mon, Gin! I know you're up there. If you don't throw me the ladder I'll just climb the tree."

Ginny rolled her eyes and kicked the ladder over the side of the platform. A moment later Mike was sitting across from her. "Did it occur to you I might want to be alone?" she asked.

"Nope," he said, smiling at her annoyance.

"Of course not. Why should it? I was only _hiding in a tree_. It would've been unreasonable for me to assume that everyone realized that I don't want to be disturbed."

"What are you doing up here?" he asked, looking around the bare platform, surrounded and hidden by branches thick with leaves.

She held up her book. "The _Táin_?" Mike said, taking it from her hands and turning it over. "You've read it so many times it's practically falling apart!" The book had been a Christmas gift from him long ago.

Ginny took it back. "It's one of my favorites," she replied.

"I can tell," he answered. "You've got yourself quite a library of Celtic history."

She smiled. "It's my favorite thing to read about." She paused. "Now that we've covered what _I'm_ doing up here, what are _you_ doing up here?"

"Same as you," he answered, holding up a book.

"_Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_! I just finished that one!"

"I know. I got it off your bookshelf."

Ginny smacked him on the arm with her paperback. "You went through my stuff?"

"Not _all_ your stuff," Mike answered, rubbing his arm and grinning. "Just your books."

She rolled her eyes and turned back to her book. The two of them read in companionable silence for a while. Eventually, Ginny nudged Mike with her foot to get his attention. "Don't you like the story?" she asked. "You haven't been laughing at all. I was practically rolling on the floor."

Mike shrugged and shut his book. "I'm just worried about my dad, I guess," he said. "It's a top secret operation so he's not even allowed to send an owl to let me know he's okay or where he is or anything." He rubbed the bridge of his nose, as though he had a headache.

"Your father's a brave man," Ginny said softly. "You should be very proud of him."

"I am," Mike insisted. "It's just that when I was little the Burrow was more my home than anywhere else. He was always at the Ministry; I hardly ever saw him. And now that I'm at Hogwarts, he's running off on secret missions and…I don't know." He shook his head.

"He loves you very much," Ginny offered.

"I know he does. I just wish…"

"What?"

"I wish he wouldn't go risking the only family I have left! Death Eaters killed my mother. Do they have to kill my father too?"

Ginny rubbed her hand soothingly across his shoulders. "If he doesn't do it, there's no one else," she said. "Your father is giving up his safety so you can keep yours. He's risking his life so you and your children and grandchildren can live in a Voldemort-free world."

Mike started. "You said the name!"

Ginny paused. "I guess I did," she said, smiling ruefully. "I suppose it's only fair. I've met him face to face; I'd better be able to say his name. Harry does it all the time. Oh," she suddenly remembered. "Speaking of Harry, we'd better get inside!" She threw down the rope ladder and scrambled to the ground. Mike followed more slowly.

"Thanks, Ginny," he said. "I really needed somebody to talk to." He dropped to the ground, pulled a bag out of his pocket, and tossed it to her. "A peace offering," he said.

She opened the bag and looked inside. "Jelly beans!" she exclaimed, taking one out and popping it in her mouth. A moment later she spat it out into the bushes. "Oh, disgusting! It was vomit flavored!"

She looked in the bag again, and saw with astonishment that every bean was the same color, puce with yellow flecks. "They're _all_ vomit flavored!"

Mike grinned. "I've been saving them up just for you."

Ginny laughed. "How charming. Let's go inside. Mum must be almost done making her feast."

"Feast?" Mike asked as they started towards the house.

"It's Harry's birthday. He's never really had a proper birthday party so today mum was going all out for dinner."

"I didn't know it was his birthday," Mike said. "I don't have a present for him! You can't go to a birthday party without a present."

"You know, Mike," Ginny said thoughtfully. "Nothing says happy birthday like a bag of puke flavored jelly beans."

"Funny, Ginny. Really amusing," Mike answered. "But seriously, what am I going to do?"

"You can put your name on my gift, if you want," she offered.

"Really? Thanks, Red!"

Ginny smacked him on the arm with her book again, but they were both laughing. "I'll race you to the table," Ginny challenged, and they were both off and running.

*****

The birthday feast was fantastic. No one could remember when they had eaten such a good dinner. And, to Harry's surprise and pleasure, Mrs. Weasley topped off the meal with a four layer chocolate cake and three different flavors of ice cream.

After dinner was over and Harry had opened his presents, Mr. Weasley announced, "It's time to get ready for the festival! Kids, go put on some robes. And hurry! We don't want to be late!" Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had been the only ones at the table not dressed in muggle clothes.

"Festival?" Harry asked Hermione as they raced up the stairs.

"Midnight tonight is the beginning of Lughnasa. The festival probably has something to do with that," Hermione answered.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Lughnasa. Remember?" At Harry's blank expression she rolled her eyes and adopted the lecturing tone of one of his professors. "It's one of the four great calendar feasts, along with Samhain, Imbolc, and Beltaine," Hermione answered, sounding as if she was reading from a textbook.

"Calendar feasts?"

"One of the four days of the year that the otherworld and this one are joined. We learned all about it in History of Magic our fifth year."

"We did?" Her exasperated expression made him change the subject. "What kind of festival is Lughnasa?"

"It's totally fun, Harry," Ron said, coming up behind them. "There are carnival games and lots of food. It's held by the pond outside the village. You'll love it."

Fifteen minutes later, dressed in wizard robes, Mike, Harry, Hermione, and the Weasley siblings reconvened in the kitchen. The group walked to the festival; it wasn't very far away, after all. Harry had never been to a carnival or fair and thought that a festival commemorating the beginning of a calendar feast would be a wonderful way to top off his birthday. The night was warm and breezy, and the sunset illuminated the sky with bright reds and purples. The colors were reflected in the water of the pond, which rippled under the soft summer breeze; Hermione mentioned something about water being an important part of the magic of Lughnasa, but Harry couldn't remember exactly what she had said. The air was filled with laughter and celebration. Music surrounded all of the festival goers, and Ginny overheard someone say that there would be fireworks at midnight to mark the official start of the feast day. She loved the pageantry of the calendar celebration and seeing the local wizards dressed in all their colorful finery.

For a while, they all had a wonderful time mingling with the other wizards and eating as much food as they could. Lughnasa was a festival commemorating the harvest, so fresh fruit was available in abundance. Her parents, the twins, and Harry, Hermione, and Ron had gone off in three separate groups, leaving her with Mike. He bought a carton of snozzberries from a fruit seller and the two of them wandered around, sharing their snack, people watching, and enjoying the laughter and fun that comes from being in the company of someone who knows you very well. Dusk loomed around them, and after a while Ginny told Mike that they should probably head towards the pond; she didn't want to miss the fireworks. Not hearing a response, she turned to look for him and saw him a short ways off, talking to one of the merchants that had a booth at the festival. Walking over to them, she saw that he was holding a white rose and handing the flower seller a single silver sickle.

"Mike?" she called. "We don't want to miss the fireworks. They're supposed to be great."

He turned and gave her a familiar broad grin, holding the rose out to her and sweeping into a ridiculous imitation of a grand bow. "Is this for me?" she asked, giggling at his antics.

"It's for being such a great listener in the tree house this afternoon," he said, straightening up and letting her take the rose from his fingers. He took a step closer and looked down intently into her face. "Vomit beans were probably not the best way to tell you that I really appreciated your friendship today."

"Probably not," she agreed, smelling her flower and smiling. She tore off the long stem and tucked the bloom behind her ear, grateful for a bit of white since she was wearing her black school robes. "Shall we?" she asked, motioning towards the lake.

"Absolutely," he answered, hooking his arm through hers and starting off in the direction she'd indicated. Ginny sighed happily. Mike turned to her. "A Knut for your thoughts?"

"I'm having a great time," she said. "I was just wondering why you can't always be like this."

"Like what?" he asked, puzzled.

"Friendly," she answered. "And fun. I'm really enjoying being out here with you."

"Glad to hear it," he said amicably. "I wonder what it is that makes us fight all the time," he added thoughtfully.

"I believe it has something to do with the fact that you hugely enjoy winding me up."

"Ah," he said knowingly. "I knew it must be something like that."

Ginny giggled and pinched his side. "Oh!" he gasped. "Stop it! I'm ticklish!"

She laughed again. "I didn't know that. Never reveal your weakness to your enemies."

"Are you my enemy?" he asked, although the smile hadn't yet left his face.

"Not today," she replied, slipping out of her sandals to enjoy the feel of the cold grass on the soles of her feet.

He gave a melodramatic sigh. "I suppose that will have to be good enough for me."

"I suppose so," she answered, swinging her sandals into his chest. "Carry my shoes," she ordered imperiously, but completely ruining the effect by laughing.

"Carry your own smelly shoes," he answered. "Don't I look like I have better things to do?"

"Not at the moment, no," Ginny answered as the first starburst exploded in the sky. She immediately lost interest in their banter, mesmerized by the colors and light and music surrounding her. She walked closer to the pond, not hearing Mike as he called after her to wait for him. She was only a few steps away from where the water lapped against the grass. Three steps, two, then one; Ginny felt the cold wetness lick at her toes, and then she felt a horrible jerk. It was almost like a portkey, but this wasn't pulling on her body, it was pulling on her soul. The world seemed to tip on its axis, and then melted away in a smear of color and sound.

*****

Ginny landed with a bone-jarring thump. She tried to stand but collapsed in a heap on the ground, her legs refusing to support her. She raised her head and looked around, taking in her surroundings. She lay in the middle of a field. Brilliantly green grass dotted with small red flowers stretched as far as the eye could see. There was not a single tree or hill in sight: nothing to mar the incredible flatness of this strange place in which she found herself. Raising her eyes to the sky, Ginny saw that it was clear and light blue, not a cloud in sight. The sun shone brightly, beating down on her skin. She reached up to push her hair out of her face and her fingers found the rose Mike had bought just a few minutes ago. Raising herself into a sitting position, she pulled the flower out of her hair and looked at it intently. Where was she? Who brought her here? And, more importantly, how did she go about getting back?

Ginny looked up again, shading her eyes from the glare of the sun, seemingly harsh after the cool night she had left just a few moments before. She almost shrieked with surprise.

There was a woman standing about ten feet away, her hands crossed over her chest. The woman stood very still, as though she believed that, if she didn't move, she would not be noticed. The sunlight shone from behind her, so Ginny couldn't see anything more than her outline. Mentally gauging her options, Ginny decided there was no way to run or hide, so she might as well face this stranger head on. "Hello?" she called. "Where are we?" The figure began walking towards her with long, purposeful strides. "Do you speak English?" Ginny asked when the woman grew nearer. From her seat on the ground, she tipped her head up to take in the stranger's appearance. And up, and up, and up. _Good lord, she must be over seven feet tall_, Ginny thought to herself. The woman did not extend her hand to help Ginny to her feet. For the second time, Ginny tried to stand, but collapsed again.

The woman made an aggravated sound. "Weakling," she accused scornfully.

"What?" Ginny asked, startled. 

"Don't be stupid," the woman replied. "I never repeat myself. You heard me the first time. And if you didn't, there's even less hope for you than I originally thought."

"Excuse me for being slightly disoriented after being pulled out of the festival to…to…" she looked around helplessly. "To wherever I am now."

The woman finally extended her hand, elegantly white and heavy precious looking jewels. Ginny grabbed it, and gasped in pain. Tongues of fire and shards of ice tore through her where her skin touched the stranger's. She had never known such pain, but it was over as soon as it began. Before Ginny could cry out, she was standing on her feet and the woman was wiping her hand on her robes, as though Ginny was extremely unpleasant to the touch.

Now that they were both standing, Ginny saw that her estimate of the woman's height was not far off. Her shoulders were easily a foot above Ginny's own head. She wore robes of deep burgundy velvet, with a scarlet cape slung over her shoulders. Several nasty looking daggers hung at her side, and she wore so many gold and ruby bracelets, rings, and necklaces that it was a miracle she could even walk with their weight. Even her shoes were encrusted with rubies. The woman's hair was red, so rich in color it was almost garnet, and it tumbled to her waist in tousled waves. But it was her face that convinced Ginny that she had not landed in safe company. This woman's face was almost too beautiful to bear looking at, but at the same time it was stern, proud, and the very definition of the word _fierce_. She was dangerous and wild; Ginny instinctively knew that this woman had killed before, and had viciously enjoyed it.

Ginny pulled out her wand, and to her surprise the woman began to laugh, a cruel sound completely devoid of mirth or good feeling. "What do you think you're doing?" she demanded.

"I'm the one with the weapon," Ginny answered, schooling her face into an expressionless mask. Her poker face was a skill she had perfected while hiding her crush on Harry. "I'll ask the questions."

The woman sneered. "Stupid girl. Your little wand is completely useless here."

"Where, exactly, is here?"

The woman raised an eyebrow imperiously. "The Otherworld," she answered, as though this answer must be patently obvious.

Ginny lowered her wand a few inches in shock. "How did I get here?" she whispered. She had heard of such things happening, but had never thought it could happen to her. The woman didn't answer, but seemed to be enjoying Ginny's distress. "How did this happen!" Ginny shouted.

So fast that Ginny hadn't even seen her move, the woman had one of her daggers out and positioned at Ginny's neck. Although the woman didn't cut her, Ginny could still feel the sharp, cold edge resting against the pulse in her throat. "Never speak to me with such disrespect again," the woman said softly, her mouth a bare inch from Ginny's ear, every word invested with menace.

She drew the dagger away slowly. "You stepped in a sacred pool on the feast of Lughnasa. Where did you think to end up?"

"I didn't!" Ginny protested. She thought for a moment. She remembered the flower, and tickling Mike, and the first round of fireworks, but the rest was a blur. "I don't remember," she murmured, horrified.

"You wouldn't," the woman said scornfully. "I brought you here."

Ginny had no idea why, as it seemed that the woman found her utterly distasteful. "Who are you?" she asked.

The woman slid her dagger under Ginny's chin and used the flat side of it to lift her face until they were looking into each other's eyes. "I am the Mórrígan," she said. "And if you are a smart girl, you will listen to me and do exactly as I say."

Ginny's knees almost gave out from under her. The Mórrígan. She was standing face to face with the Mórrígan. She could hardly believe it. The Mórrígan was the Great Queen of the Otherworld, the goddess of war and fertility. One of the most cruel, dangerous and powerful deities in the Old faith, with bloodlust that would never be satisfied, the Mórrígan was definitely someone to fear.

"Why am I here?" Ginny managed to croak, tilting her chin farther up to avoid being pierced by the twisted metal of the dagger in the goddess's hand.

"I am the one with the weapon," Mórrígan mocked. "I'll ask the questions."

"Why am I here?" Ginny repeated in a terrified whisper. What could this goddess possibly want to know so badly that she would pull Ginny right out of the world to satisfy her curiosity?

Mórrígan pushed her dagger up, tipping Ginny's chin just a little further, and then used the weapon to turn her head from side to side. All the while, she studied Ginny intently. Finally, apparently satisfied with what she saw, Mórrígan resheathed the dagger in her belt and took a step back. "What is your name, girl?" she demanded.

"Ginny," Ginny answered.

"Only Ginny? That's a pathetic excuse for a name."

Ginny swallowed hard. "My name is Virginia Morgan Weasley," she amended.

"Much better," the goddess answered, finally seeming pleased about something. She reached into a small purse that hung at her waist and pulled out a ring. She held it out and Ginny gingerly took it from her hand, not wanting to touch Mórrígan's skin. Ginny examined the ring holding it up to the sunlight. It was clear, with the image of a dragon etched on one side.

"It's made of diamond," Mórrígan told her.

"Why are you giving it to me?" Ginny asked.

"Because it belongs to you. Wear it, but do not let anyone see it until the time is right. You'll know when. If you lose it, then you are no longer any good to me and I'll take great pleasure in cutting your throat." Ginny's eyes flew to Mórrígan's face; the goddess was not exaggerating. Ginny slipped the ring into her pocket, closing her hand around it protectively.

"You'll see me again. Probably sooner than you would like," Mórrigan said. Then the world began to shift and turn. Ginny fell to her knees and shut her eyes, fighting off nausea. When she opened them, she found herself kneeling in the pond at the Lughnasa festival, her robes soaking wet to the waist. She saw Mike and her parents running up to her, frantic looks on their faces. Her mother waded into the shallow water and flung her arms around Ginny. Mike's face was ashen. Her father looked stunned. "What just happened?" Ginny asked them.

"You disappeared!" her mother sobbed. "I've never been so terrified! I didn't know if there had been a hidden portkey, or if you'd been kidnapped…."

"Where did you go, Ginny?" her father asked solemnly, dropping to his knees in the water so he could look her in the eyes. "You were gone for almost a full minute. Did someone take you somewhere? Do you remember what happened?"

Ginny knew, somehow, that Mórrígan wouldn't want Ginny to tell her parents about her visit to the Otherworld. "No," Ginny told her father. "I remember wading into the water, and then I fell and you three came running up." Her father looked even more concerned than before. "I'm going to take you home," he said. "You should be in bed." Ginny didn't argue.

*****

Thirty minutes later Ginny, dressed in Gryffindor pajamas, sat on her bed staring at the ring made of solid diamond that she held in her hand. What on Earth could the dragon stand for? Her brother studied dragons, and Ginny wouldn't be surprised to learn that Mórrígan kept a few as pets. She thought of Draco Malfoy, but she figured that if Mórrígan had anything to do with him or his family she wouldn't have made it back from the Otherworld alive. Plus, the goddess didn't seem like the type to cast in with Death Eaters. _It belongs to you_, Mórrígan had told her. Well, Ginny certainly thought she would remember owning a huge ring made of solid diamond. She feared for a moment that Mórrígan had lured the wrong person into the Otherworld, but the goddess had studied her face at length and seemed convinced that Ginny was the one she wanted to see.

She turned the ring over in her hand. _Wear it_, Mórrígan had said. Ginny slipped the ring over onto her third finger. It was way too big. She slid it onto her thumb and tipped her hand over. The ring dropped right off and bounced on the bedcovers. 

Frowning in thought, Ginny padded over to her dresser and opened her jewelry box. She didn't own a lot of jewelry, but the few pieces she had were precious to her. She pulled out a delicate silver chain; it had been her grandmother's and her mother had given it to her on her thirteenth birthday. Going back to the bed, Ginny slid the ring onto the chain, fastened the clasp behind her neck, and tucked the ring under the collar of her T-shirt. The ring felt heavy against her chest but, somehow, she felt reassured by its weight. Satisfied that she had followed the goddess's instructions to the best of her ability, she blew out her candle and got into bed. Ginny stared at her ceiling until the pink streaks of dawn appeared in the sky, but she finally fell asleep.

*****

At Hogwarts, Dumbledore was readying himself for bed when an owl came soaring through his window. He untied the letter from the bird's leg and slit open the envelope. His blue eyes widened as he read the note, untidily scrawled in Arthur Weasley's usually neat and precise penmanship. Dumbledore had requested that his closest allies keep close watch on the happenings of the wizarding world and inform him at once, should something unusual occur. Well, Arthur certainly told an interesting tale. _So_, Dumbledore mused_, Miss Weasley stepped into a pond on the night of a calendar feast and vanished without a trace, and then returned claiming no memory of what had happened_.

He opened his most secret, magically secure drawer and pulled out the list of names that Severus Snape had compiled for him almost sixteen years ago. The names of the three female magical children born on another calendar feast: the night Harry's parent's had been killed and everything had changed. He had read over this list thousands of times over the years, wondering which child would be the one he'd been waiting for the last twenty-eight years of his life. And there, at the very bottom (_How very like Severus to put them in alphabetical order_, he'd mused more than once) was the name Virginia Weasley.

   [1]: http://www.pantheon.org/



	4. The Dream

Title: The Rebirth—Chapter Three

Title: The Rebirth—Chapter Three "The Dream"

Author name: Irina

Author email: [Irina@schnoogle.com][1]

Category: drama, romance

Keywords: Ginny, destiny, angst, romance, drama  
Spoilers: All four books

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Why _did_ Voldemort try to kill Harry? An ancient power has reawakened and the answers to all the mysteries lie with Ginny Weasley.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Potion ingredients came from www.herbalremedies.com.

[Author's Note][2]: Thanks to Danette, for letting me babble forever over IM and helping me get organized regarding my plot, and to Barb, who set up all my stuff on schnoogle and was extremely nice and helpful. Thank you and hugs to Gokuh4060, the best brother and friend on the face of the Earth. Thanks to my roommates, for always having ice cream in the freezer. Thanks to KiddoBoy for making me laugh and for not being dysfunctional. Thanks to St. John, for writing the book of _Revelation_ and thanks to my philosophy professor for making me read it, thus inspiring the dream in the prologue and, by extension, giving me the idea for the entire story. Last but not least, thanks to my landlord for being a cheap jerk and refusing to turn on the heat in my apartment until next month, forcing me to write this chapter while wrapped in my quilt for warmth and inspiring a very important scene. And now, on with the show!

****

Chapter 3

The Dream

__

October 2, 1997

The room was the largest she had ever seen. The ceiling was so high as to almost be invisible to her eyes. She could barely make out the wall opposite her. The floor was made of flat, gray stone; the walls were also stone, but were hung with rich tapestries that muffled the echoes of her footsteps. Ginny walked cautiously down the deserted hall, looking left and right, the uncanny silence making her nervous. She felt like she was walking through water; the air was heavy and thick, somehow, and the room was filled with an eerie blue glow.

A silver throne sat on a raised dais against the wall. On it sat a giant, dangerous looking woman dressed all in red. "What are you_ doing here?" Ginny asked irritably, the ghostly room temporarily driving her fear of the goddess out of her mind._

The Mórrígan didn't answer right away. She leaned an elbow on one arm of the throne and motioned with her other hand for Ginny to turn around. Ginny gasped in surprise. Behind her, there was a table where no table had been a moment before. It was massive, carved from a single piece of wood. No mortal could have created this table_, Ginny thought, stepping closer. It was perfectly round, and covered with carvings of dragons. The images were so realistic, she could have sworn they were moving. There were at least a hundred imposing, high-backed chairs spaced evenly around it. Ginny stepped toward the table slowly, drawn to it like a moth to a flame, completely unable to stop herself. _They look like the dragon on my ring_, she thought, looking closer at the carvings._

Ginny reached out her hand slowly, pausing just before she touched the tabletop. She took a deep breath, and then, she brought her hand down, feeling the smooth, cool wood beneath her skin. Suddenly, a loud CRACK_ shattered the silence in that unearthly hall. The table split right down the center. The two halves lay broken, their jagged edges wide enough apart to form a clear pathway down the middle. Ginny jerked her arm back and screamed in surprise. She recoiled several steps and felt her back slam into the Mórrígan's chest._

Ginny turned and faced the goddess. "What is this?" she demanded. "You broke the table!"

"No," Mórrígan answered. "You_ broke the table."_

"Where is this place?" Ginny hoped that she hadn't been pulled into the Otherworld again.

"We are in the past," the goddess told her.

"Why?"

"Because you can't face your future until you understand what's come before."

Ginny whirled around and ran. Her blood pounded in her ears as she raced between the two pieces of broken wood, fleeing the goddess and the table that had been divided by her hand. Blinded by her panic, she slammed into the Mórrígan, who had apperated directly into Ginny's escape path. The goddess closed her hands around Ginny's shoulders and shook her so hard her teeth rattled. Then she pushed Ginny away with enough force to send the girl sprawling on the stone floor.

"You broke the table, Virginia Morgan Weasley," Mórrígan accused. "It is your responsibility to set it right."

Ginny slowly dragged herself to her feet and raised her eyes to the goddess's. "I didn't," she protested. The goddess looked down from her great height. "I don't know what you're talking about. Can't you leave me alone?" she asked in a whispered plea.

"Pull yourself together," the goddess ordered impatiently. "You're a disgrace."

Ginny felt tears threatening to spill from her eyes. She madly blinked them away and tried to swallow the lump in her throat. Mórrígan reached out a single finger and trailed it along Ginny's collarbone, leaving a trail of agonizing torment in its wake. Ginny bit her lip, determined not to give the goddess satisfaction by crying out. The tears spilled out of her eyes and ran in salty tracks down her face and her cheeks burned in humiliation and pain, but she made no sound. Mórrígan seemed not to notice Ginny's internal struggle; she hooked a finger around the silver chain and lifted the dragon ring from its hiding place beneath Ginny's shirt. She looked at it for a long moment, and then dropped it. The ring struck Ginny's breastbone with its dull weight. "Don't ever_ take it off," she warned. Ginny nodded, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand._

"I understand," she said.

The goddess gave her a condescending look. "You don't. But you will figure it out soon, or I have been wasting my time with you."

They stood there, facing each other in that cavernous room for a silent moment. The crack of the wood still echoed in Ginny's ears.

"I broke the table," she whispered, closing her hand around the ring.

Mórrígan looked at her sharply. "You are very much as I was when I was young," she said.

Ginny looked into her eyes. "You were never young."

"You're right, I wasn't." The goddess's face was cold. "And if I had been, I'm sure I would've been nothing at all like you, worthless girl."

*****

Ginny sat up suddenly in her four poster bed. She still clutched the ring in her hand. She drew one of her bed curtains aside and peeked out, making sure that her nightmare hadn't woken any of her dorm mates. The curtains on Gwen, Shannon, and Maria's beds were closed tightly; none of them stirred. Hastily tucking the ring beneath her collar, Ginny slipped out of bed and padded out the door, dragging her coverlet behind her. She quietly walked down the stairs to the common room, hoping none of the prefects were light sleepers.

She needed to think about this latest encounter with Mórrígan. They were becoming more and more frequent lately. The goddess visited her dreams at least once a week, usually to deliver a cryptic message that Ginny had no hope of deciphering.

Dropping her blanket on the floor in front of the fire, which had burned to nothing but embers, Ginny got a cup off the shelf and filled it with water from the tap in the corner. Whenever she had a nightmare as a little girl, her mother brought her a glass of water and a hug. Ginny figured fifty percent of a home remedy was better than nothing. She settled on the floor before the glowing logs and leaned back against the sofa, wrapping herself in the bedspread and sipping her water pensively.

__

A table, she thought. _What on Earth could a table represent?_ Ginny had no answer to that question, and so she knew she had to stay awake; if Ginny fell back asleep Mórrígan would be there waiting, furious that Ginny had had the nerve to wake up in the middle of the lesson. The fact that Ginny wasn't learning anything from these lessons had never crossed the goddess's mind. Whenever Ginny tried to explain that Mórrígan had the wrong girl, or that she had no idea what the goddess was trying to show her, Ginny only earned a shove or some sharp words. When Mórrígan was extremely angry, she would trail a finger down the side of Ginny's face or arm, knowing how much it pained mortals to be in contact with the skin of a divine being.

So Ginny sat alone on the floor of the common room, wrapped in her bedspread and sipping on her water. The embers of the fire left the room in semi-darkness. Presently, she heard the creak of the stairs on the boys' side. Turning in surprise, Ginny saw Harry descending the stairs, his black hair standing on end and his green eyes cloudy with sleep. He was almost parallel to the fireplace before he noticed Ginny on the floor. He nearly jumped out of his skin. "God, Gin! What are you doing down here?"

"Same thing as you, I think," she answered. Ron had told her about Harry's frequent nightmares.

He confirmed her guess by asking sympathetically, "Bad dream, then?"

She nodded. "I just came down here to get a drink of water. It sometimes helps me feel better."

"Yeah," he agreed, taking a cup down from the wall and filling it at the tap as she had done earlier. He padded over and sat down on the floor next to her. They both looked into the remnants of the fire, each lost in the memory of the dreams that woke them.

"And you don't want to go back to sleep, you know?" Harry finally broke the silence. "Because the dream might still be there, waiting for you." He shivered.

Ginny noticed for the first time how cold the room was. The dying fire did nothing to keep the autumn chill out of the air. "Here," she said, opening the blanket that she had wrapped around her. She set one end gently around Harry's shoulders. "We can share."

Harry looked down at her, but didn't say anything. He pulled his end of the bedspread tighter around his shoulders. Ginny laughed. "Stop it! Nobody likes a chap who hogs the covers."

Harry looked momentarily startled, and then chuckled gently and rearranged the blanket so that they each had half. They sat, shoulder to shoulder, in their cozy, down filled cocoon. _I shouldn't be down here with him_, she thought, remembering their encounter in the living room at the Burrow. _This will only make it harder for me to put him out of my mind_. Yet something inside of her told her to stay; that everything would be all right. The room was dark and Harry's body was so very warm. Despite her intentions to the contrary, Ginny found herself drifting off. She tried to stay awake, but then Harry raised his arm and settled it around her back, holding her close by his side. For a brief moment she considered pulling away, but it seemed as though her body and her mind were operating completely independently of one another. Ginny rested her head on his shoulder and stopped fighting to keep her eyes open.

"So what was yours about?" Harry's voice was low and soft.

"Hmmm?" she replied drowsily.

"Your dream," he said, shrugging his shoulder to jostle her head a bit. 

She opened her eyes and elbowed him in the side. "Quit it," she said. "I was just getting comfortable."

"What was it about?" he asked again.

Ginny tried to describe her dream in vague terms. "I remember someone who didn't like me," she answered slowly. "And this person tried to hurt me." She shuddered, remembering the agony of Mórrígan's finger on her skin. Harry tightened his arm reassuringly around her shoulders. "How about yours?"

"Same as usual," he answered with a bitter laugh.

"Was there a monster?" Ginny asked, choosing to deliberately misunderstand. She didn't want to talk about Voldemort tonight.

"Isn't there always?" Harry sounded tired.

"There isn't now." She laid her head back on his shoulder, thinking how very comfortable he was.

"No," his voice was low. "There isn't now."

They were silent for a while longer, and then Harry spoke again. "Gin?" There was no answer. "Gin, are you awake?" He twisted his head to get a look at her face; she was sound asleep, her breathing even. One hand curled in the blanket, holding it close to her chest, and the other lay on the floor between his back and the couch. He shifted a bit so that her head wasn't at such an extreme angle; he didn't want her to get a sore neck. Then he rested his head back against the sofa cushion and closed his eyes, following her to dreamland, neither one of them troubled by nightmares.

*****

Harry woke suddenly from a sound sleep. He looked around the common room, blearily registering that the grandfather clock said five minutes to five, and trying to remember how he got there. Then, he looked down and saw a red head resting against his chest and it all came flooding back to him. His nightmare about Voldemort, how he came downstairs to avoid waking his dorm mates, found Ginny, and then held her as she fell asleep, the two of them keeping each others' nightmares at bay. He looked at the clock again; they had to get back to their rooms. He didn't want to think about the scene that Ron would cause if he found them down here together.

Harry looked down at the top of her head. Shaking her awake just didn't seem the thing to do after last night. Instead, he stroked a hand gently down her hair. _It's so soft_, he thought. He remembered the night before, when he put his arm around her and held her next to him. He had been desperate for human contact, to know that there was someone else who could understand his fear of falling asleep and of what waited for him every night in his subconscious. To his pleasure, Ginny hadn't pulled away or sat stiffly beside him, she had snuggled right up next to him and promptly dropped off.

He continued stroking her hair and leaned down so that his mouth was next to her ear. "Gin, wake up," he said softly. She stirred a bit. "Ginny," he said again. "We have to get back up to our rooms."

She lifted her head from his chest and rubbed her eyes sleepily. Then she stretched, arching her back like a cat. When she was done, she lifted her face to his. He watched the changing expression in her eyes as the memories of the night before came back to her, and then she smiled.

Their gazes locked. Harry felt something shift inside of him, as though a part of him that had been closed off was finally free. He was falling right into her. Her brown eyes became all he could see. For just a second, one brief, shining moment, everything she was, everything that was uniquely Ginny, was open to him. He could see her imagination, her dreams, and her childhood memories. He felt her thoughts, ambitions, and insecurities, her disorientation from being woken so early in the morning, and the slight cramp in her legs from sleeping on the floor all night. Gently, Harry's mind pulled back, but he had left something of himself behind in her. He could feel part of her in him, as though they had traded pieces of their souls. It was the most powerful, intense, and unsettling magic he had ever experienced.

Ginny hardly dared to breathe. She met Harry's eyes and suddenly felt as though a piece of her had been torn away, leaving a hole in the very fabric of her being that had been immediately filled by something that was the essence of Harry. She could feel it in her heart and mind, foreign, and yet strangely familiar, as though she had been waiting for this moment her entire life and just hadn't realized it yet.

They stared at each other, both of them perfectly still. The entire exchange had taken less than a second, but they knew that their lives had been altered forever. "What was that?" Ginny's words were more breath than sound.

"I don't know," Harry replied, equally still. "You felt it too?"

She nodded, almost imperceptibly.

The clock began to chime five o'clock.

They stared into each other's eyes another long moment, both unsettled and a bit frightened by the powerful spell that had briefly ensnared them.

Finally, and with no little effort, Ginny untangled her mind from its stupor and turned her head to look at the clock. "We have to get back to our rooms," she murmured, feeling somehow that speaking out loud would shatter the fragile aura of magic that permeated the common room.

"Yeah," Harry said, but made no move to leave. He had turned almost completely inward, feeling the piece of Ginny that he now carried within him. He knew it wasn't something he would ever get used to; he'd be aware of it every minute of every day. But, Harry knew he'd fight to the death anyone who tried to take it away. 

Ginny extricated herself from Harry's arms and stood, holding out her hand to help him up. "Come on, we have to go. We can talk about it later, after we've both had a chance to think."

Harry stood, picking up the comforter and handing it to her. "I'll see you at breakfast," he said, his voice a bit unsteady.

Ginny nodded, gave him a small smile, and then went up the stairs to her own dorm, trailing the blanket behind her.

When she reached her room, Ginny tossed the blanket onto her bed, opened the window, and leaned out, taking deep breaths of the cold, fresh air. While her head started clearing from the magical fog that had filled it in the common room, Ginny surveyed the Hogwarts grounds, taking in the vague, lumpy forms of the greenhouses and Hagrid's cabin, sensing rather than seeing the Forbidden Forest beyond it all. A crow landed on the windowsill and cawed loudly.

"Shh!" Ginny hissed to the bird. "Go away!" She shooed it off of the ledge, not wanting it to wake the other girls.

With another loud caw, the crow fluttered its wings and flew off. Ginny sighed as she closed the window, and then she climbed into bed and drew the curtains, enclosing herself in a box of red velvet. She had no idea what had happened in the common room between Harry and her, and she knew that analyzing the spell without any books or reference materials would be a useless waste of time. Ginny flopped onto her back and stared at the ceiling, waiting for the noises that would tell her that her roommates had woken up. Unconsciously, her hand closed around the ring that rested on her chest.

*****

The October days flew by. Ginny's workload was astoundingly heavy. Her professors were all intent on preparing them for the NEWTs, even though the class wouldn't be taking the tests for another year. Adding to the pressure was the fact that Ginny was aware of Harry every moment of every day. Even when he wasn't near her she could feel the piece of him she carried within her and knew that his thoughts were never far from what had happened in the common room. Still, they hadn't talked about what happened. Since that morning, Ginny couldn't bear Harry's company. For a time, no matter how brief, every part of her soul had been open to him. He knew everything about her; she had no secrets from him anymore. All of her most embarrassing moments, her most private dreams, and her dearest ambitions had been laid bare. The incredible vulnerability that came with having Harry know her so well was intolerable. So, she avoided him and when avoidance was impossible, like during Quidditch practice, Ginny always made sure that they stayed in a large group so that he couldn't talk to her alone.

At least she had the upcoming Halloween ball to distract her. It was all her dorm mates ever talked about anymore. Who was going with whom, what they would wear, jewelry, shoes, makeup, and boys—Ginny didn't think the sixth year Gryffindor girls had ever been this thrilled about anything. She couldn't help being caught up in their excitement; she had worked hard on her dress robes, after all, and she couldn't wait to wear them. As a matter of fact, the ball was the foremost thing on her mind as she headed into double Potions with the Ravenclaws.

As usual, Ginny took a seat next to Maria. Ria was a Muggle born witch with brown hair and hazel eyes, one of Ginny's fellow chasers on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and from almost their first day at Hogwarts the two of them had been inseparable. Besides Harry, Hermione, and her family, Ria was the only person who knew about the Chamber of Secrets and the enchantment that Voldemort had put on Ginny. Behind them, Shannon earnestly sought Gwen's opinion on what color nail varnish she should wear to the ball.

Ginny and Ria exchanged amused looks. Gwen was Gryffindor's resident beauty expert. She dreamed of opening a spa after graduation, and her advice on hair, clothes, and cosmetics was prized among the girls of all houses. Gwen knew the ins and outs of every potion and charm that perfected one's looks, but unless a lesson dealt with something cosmetic Gwen was hopeless. She had the worst grades of the sixth year class, and every term Ria, Shannon, and Ginny were terrified that she wouldn't pass. She always did, but just by the skin of her teeth.

"Reckon we should join in the conversation?" Ginny asked. Ria was a jock of the first order and had a phobia of anything having to do with cosmetics or dressing up.

Ria made a face. "I haven't the faintest idea what they're talking about." She sneezed. "Sorry, Gin. I think I'm getting a cold."

Ginny looked around the room. All of the Ravenclaws and half of the Gryffindors were sniffling. Ginny herself had been fighting a sinus headache for the past three days.

Professor Snape swept into the room. "Today," he said, fixing all of the students who were blowing their noses with an icy glare, "you will be brewing Pepperup potion. I daresay you all need it. I hope you have read the chapter in your text about medicinal potions, because, as an extra challenge, you will be working without the instructions."

There was a general outcry from the students that was silenced by a wave of Snape's hand. "If you have read the chapter, you should have nothing to worry about."

"I read the chapter, but I didn't _memorize_ it," Ria whispered nervously to Ginny.

Snape turned to their table. "Miss Johnson, perhaps you and Miss Weasley shouldn't work together today since you can't keep from socializing while I'm talking. Take your things and sit with Miss Mockridge."

"But Professor—"

"_Go_!" he ordered.

Ria silently gathered up her things and walked to the Ravenclaw side of the room, her cheeks burning. Medea Mockridge's partner moved to the empty seat next to Ginny. She glanced over—it was Mike Fletcher. _Fantastic_, she thought.

Ginny and Mike began preparing their ingredients, neither one speaking for a while. 

Finally, Mike asked, "So, fallen into any sacred ponds lately?" Ginny looked up at him and then continued slicing her Echinacea plant without replying. Mike cleared his throat. "Right. That wasn't funny. Let's start again. Do you have a date for the ball yet?"

"No," she answered, her attention focused on the plant. "Do you?"

"Oh yeah." He couldn't keep the smug smile off of his face.

Ginny's interest was piqued. "Who?" she asked, trying to remember if she'd noticed Mike hanging around any one girl in particular.

"Hannah Abbott."

"Really? Seventh year Hufflepuff Hannah Abbott?"

"Mmm-hmmm," Mike smirked as he threw her plant pieces into the cauldron. "She's tall, she's blonde, she's _gorgeous_, and she said she'd go with _me_."

Ginny couldn't stop the smile that tugged at her mouth. "That's fantastic, Mike. You two will have a great time."

"Now we have to find a date for you."

She shook her head. "Don't bother. I've been thinking that I might want to go alone."

"Go alone!" Mike couldn't have looked more horrified if she'd suggested burning a Dark Mark into her arm.

"I mean, I'd go with a date if somebody asked me, but if I'm stag then I can dance with whoever I want without worrying that I'm neglecting some boy."

Mike shook his head in disbelief. "You're so weird, Gin."

"You're just so happy that Hannah said yes that you want everyone to have a date."

He laughed. "You've got me."

She shrugged. "I've still got two and a half weeks. I'm sure somebody will pop up by then." Ginny thought about her third year, when her brother wanted her to go with Harry as a last resort. She said to Mike, "Somebody who's been turned down two or three times, no doubt."

"Don't sell yourself short," he cautioned. "I'm sure you'll have almost as much fun at the ball as I will."

"Almost as much?"

He smirked again. "Well, _you_ aren't going with Hannah Abbott."

The two of them lapsed into silence again, racking their brains to remember the potion recipe. At the end of class, Ginny and Mike looked into their cauldron, satisfied with their work. Their Pepperup potion looked just like the batch Madame Pomfrey kept in her supply cabinet.

Snape announced, "When your potion is done, one partner should test it. The outcome will determine your grade for the assignment."

Mike and Ginny looked into their cauldron. "You should take it," Mike said. "You've been coughing all through class."

"Are you sure you don't want it?" Ginny asked.

"That's okay. I'll get some from the hospital wing later."

Ginny filled a ladle with the potion and swallowed it in one gulp, holding her nose to block the unpleasant taste. Her ears began to smoke, and her head cleared almost instantly. She gave Mike a triumphant smile and opened her mouth to say that they were sure to get top marks, but no sound came out. She tried again. Nothing. Mike was giving her a strange look, so she pulled over a sheet of parchment and scribbled on it: My_ voice is gone!_

"Completely?" Mike was incredulous. Ginny nodded. _Gone_, she mouthed, reaching for her parchment. _What did we do wrong?_ she wrote.

Snape picked that moment to check on their table. "What seems to be the problem, Miss Weasley?"

Ginny put her hand on her throat and opened her mouth, but she was completely unable to talk. "I see," Snape said. He turned to the rest of the class. "Ladies and Gentlemen, this is a great day indeed. Miss Weasley has finally been struck mute."

Ginny's cheeks burned in embarrassment, but she couldn't say a word to defend herself. Snape was still addressing the class. "Who can tell me why elderberry is a key ingredient in Pepperup potion?"

A Ravenclaw boy raised his hand. "It eases sore throats."

Snape turned to Mike. "And how much elderberry did you put into your Pepperup potion, Mr. Fletcher?"

Mike looked at Ginny, who shrugged. "Two grams?" he guessed.

"That is nearly double the necessary amount. It's no wonder Miss Weasley's voice won't work." He looked down at Ginny. "Your voice should be back in a few hours. Ten points from Gryffindor for this error."

*****

Mike and Ginny left the dungeons together. "I'm really sorry, Gin," he said. "I should've known that two grams was too much.

She shook her head. _Don't worry about it_, she mouthed. He frowned at her. "You're going to have to write it. I didn't catch a bit of that."

Ginny still clutched her parchment and quill. She put a hand on Mike's arm to stop him from walking and then used his back as a writing surface to scribble her message. She held it up for him to read. Mike sighed. "I can't help feeling bad. I should've known that recipe inside and out."

Ginny rolled her eyes and then grabbed Mike's arm and pointed down the hall. They had been walking past the Charms corridor and the seventh year Hufflepuff class was just getting out. _Hannah_, she mouthed, hoping that seeing her would cheer Mike up a bit. He smiled eagerly. "Do you mind if I go talk to her?"

She grinned and shoved him in the direction of the group of students who were loitering in the hall. Mike waved goodbye and trotted off to where Hannah was standing, surrounded by her friends.

Ginny stood for a moment to watch him, an amused smile on her face. Many boys at Hogwarts had a crush on Hannah Abbott, and she was happy for Mike that he would be the one to take her to the ball. She noticed Ernie MacMillian detaching himself from the group and walking toward her. "Hi Ginny," he greeted. She smiled at him, hoping that if she looked friendly enough he wouldn't notice that she was temporarily mute.

Ernie glanced over his shoulder at the group at the end of the hall and then turned back to her. "I was wondering--" he began, but then Hannah laughed particularly loudly at something Mike said to her and Ernie lost his train of thought, turning his head to look. 

Ginny waited patiently. He turned back to her and said, "I was wondering if you have a date for the ball yet." Ginny shook her head. "Would you like to go with me? As friends, I mean." _What a coincidence_, Ginny thought. She had just been telling Mike that she didn't have a date and now here was someone asking her, right out of the blue. She smiled and nodded. _I'd love to_, she mouthed.

Ernie looked at her strangely. "Are you okay?"

She set her parchment against the wall and wrote: _Potions accident. No Voice_. _I'd love to go to the ball with you_.

"Great," he answered. "I'll talk to you later?"

She nodded, and he rejoined the pack of Hufflepuffs.

*****

As Professor Snape promised, Ginny's voice was fully functional only a few hours after Potions class. That night in the common room, she filled her friends in on her newfound date. "Ernie MacMillian asked _you_?" Shannon asked.

"As friends," Ginny answered defensively. "Why? What's your problem?"

"It's just that he's been dating Hannah Abbott for months," Shannon answered.

Ginny shrugged. "They must have broken up or he'd be going with her." She noticed Harry sitting a little ways off. He was pretending to be engrossed in his book, but she could tell he'd been eavesdropping. "Is there something I can help you with, Harry?" she asked loudly, ignoring the looks she was getting from her friends.

He shut his book with a snap and said, "Yes, actually. Could I talk to you for a second?"

Ginny looked around the common room. It was fairly full; if she walked over to his chair they'd still be within earshot of several groups of people. There was no way he'd be able to bring up what happened between them two weeks ago. She got up and joined him, perching on the arm of his chair to give herself a height advantage.

He stood. _Damn_, she thought, craning her neck up to see him. 

"You're going to the ball with Ernie MacMillian?"

"Yes…." She had no idea what offense he could take at that. It's not like she was going with bloody Malfoy or anything.

"Why?" he demanded.

"Why not?"

"_Why?"_

Ginny thought he'd lost his mind. _One too many Voldemort-induced nightmares_, she told herself. Out loud, she said, "Because he asked me to."

Harry took her arm and practically dragged her over to an area of the room far from the crowd of students. "Harry, everyone's looking at us. Let go of me." Ginny was angry, but more than that she was concerned. She'd never seen Harry act this way before.

He dropped her arm and turned to face her. "You're going with him because he asked."

"Is there an echo in here? That's what I said."

Harry no longer looked furious. He seemed a little lost. "What about me?" he asked.

Ginny was confused. "I don't understand," she began, but then it dawned on her. "Oh! You mean you don't have a date yet?"

Harry looked down at her stonily. "Poor Harry," she said sympathetically, laying a hand on his arm. "I'm sure you'll find somebody."

"What if I don't want to _find_ somebody." He scowled down at her.

"Well, you know, I thought about that too. It seems like going without a date would be so much more fun, doesn't it? You'll have a great time without some girl hanging all over you." His expression grew even darker. "Tell you what," Ginny said. "I'll save a couple of dances for you."

"A couple?" he asked.

"Two," she clarified.

"Five."

"Three."

"All slow."

"_One_ slow, two fast."

"Two slow."

"Done."

He smiled then, winked at her, and returned to his armchair and textbook. Ginny leaned against the wall and laughed with disbelief. Had she really just bargained away three of her dances at the ball? To _Harry_? _This has been a strange day_, she thought, making her way back to her friends.

   [1]: mailto:Irina4@ivillage.com
   [2]: #authorsnote



	5. The Ball

Title: The Rebirth—Chapter Four "The Ball"

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Dana and Delia belong to Danette. I'm just borrowing them. She also gets credit for the exchange between Dana and Ron at the end of the ball and for one of Harry's thoughts as he waits in the common room at the end of the chapter. Mike, Ria, Gwen, and Shannon are all named after members of my family and that, combined with the fact that they're all characters I made up, makes them mine. Once again, info on Mórrígan comes from www.pantheon.org. Oh, and another thing—at various points in this chapter various characters are under quite a bit of stress, and some of their language reflects that. There's nothing that doesn't fall under the PG-13 rating, but I just wanted to put in an extra little disclaimer: a few adult words ahead.

Author's Note: Thanks to my brother, Gokuh4060. He's cool. Thanks also to my beta-reader, Danette, for giving me plot bunnies to spare, for being so patient with me over IM during my fits of inspiration, and for loaning me Dana and Delia, who are destined to become Important Characters. I'm eternally grateful for her help. This chapter is almost twice as long as any of the others, but there was a lot to say. Please don't let the length turn you off—stick with me because the really interesting parts are still to come. Those of you who asked for longer chapters should be happy, at any rate. As always, don't forget to let me know what you think after you're done reading. And now, on with the show.

****

Chapter 4

The Ball

__

October 31, 1997

Without any advance warning, somebody bounced hard on Ginny's bed, landing mostly on Ginny's feet. She sat up quickly and reached for her wand, which she always kept under her pillow. Through the layers of slumber-induced fog that enveloped her mind, she thought she heard someone giggle. Ginny rubbed her eyes and turned to the person who had woken her out of a sound sleep and now had the gall to laugh: it was Shannon. Gwen and Ria sat on one of the other beds, looking at her expectantly. "Wake up," Shannon ordered. "It's your birthday!"

Ginny pushed her tangled hair out of her face. "It's too early for this." Her voice was raspy from sleep.

"It's _never_ too early for presents," Shannon told her.

Ginny saw that all three girls held packages; the figures on the wrapping paper moved frantically with excitement. "Open mine first!" Ria demanded, tossing her present to Ginny, who deftly caught it out of the air. Even when she was half-asleep her chaser instincts were sharp. Ria had wrapped her gift in Quidditch paper; bludgers, quaffles, and snitches zoomed around the box. Ginny tore into the gift, revealing a new pair of state of the art Quality Quidditch Chaser Gloves, designed to give the player a secure grip on the quaffle. Ginny grinned at Ria and slid the gloves out of the box. She put one on, held her hand up, and flexed her fingers, admiring the treads on the palms.

"They have an anti-tearing charm, and they repel water so you'll never have to worry about dropping the ball, even in the rain," Ria told her.

"I love them! Thanks so much," Ginny said. "They'll be a big help."

Gwen and Shannon glanced at each other. "Gwen and I went in on your present together," Shannon said, handing Ginny a box covered with flowered paper.

Ginny tore the wrapping off eagerly and opened the box inside. She froze in surprise, then looked up at her friends and back at the box. "This is too much," she said. "You two—"

"We went in on it together," Gwen said. "So it wasn't too much; it was just enough. We want you to have them."

Shannon and Gwen had given Ginny the most beautiful, delicate pair of shoes she had ever seen. Ginny pulled one out of the box and held it up to the light—it was perfectly, flawlessly clear. "_Glass slippers_," she whispered in awe.

The girls grinned. "They're enchanted to fit your feet perfectly. And we had the shop put a cushioning charm in them so you can dance all night and feel like you're walking on air." Shannon looked like she was going to explode from excitement. "Gwen and I have been planning this gift since we found out that the ball would be on your birthday."

"The cushioning charm was my idea though," Ria interjected.

"And, of course, they're unbreakable," Gwen put in. "Nothing but the best."

Ginny thought she might cry. The slippers were the most beautiful gift imaginable. The three girls piled onto Ginny's bed and gave her a birthday group hug. "You're the best friends I could ever want," Ginny told them.

"After you worked so hard on your dress robes, we couldn't just stand by and let you wear your mum's castoff shoes!" Gwen exclaimed. "Here," she tossed two more packages into Ginny's lap. "These came for you by owl post."

Ginny picked up the soft-sided gift first. She recognized her mother's handwriting on the address label and ripped apart the wrapping paper. Inside, there was a cloak made of an ice blue fluid material with silver clasps. It reminded her a bit of Harry's invisibility cloak. She held it up to get a better look and a note fluttered out and drifted to the floor. Shannon picked it up and handed it to Ginny, who unfolded it and read it quickly. "What's it say?" Ria asked. "That cloak is beautiful!"

"My mum made it for me," Ginny answered, scanning the note a second time. "She thought the color would go well with the dress robes." Ginny put the note down and grinned at her friends. "Between this cloak and the slippers, I'm all set for tonight."

She reached for the last gift. It was a white box, long and thin, tied shut with a length of red and gold ribbon. _Gryffindor colors_, she noted. Ginny slid the ribbon off the end of the box and removed the lid. Her mouth fell open in surprise. The box was full of white orchids. Shannon gave a low whistle. "Those must have cost a _fortune_," she said.

"Really?" Ria asked.

"Orchids have to be owled in," Gwen explained. "These must have been special ordered, considering the time of the year. They're _beautiful_, Gin. Who are they from?"

Ginny reached for the card and flipped it open with one hand.

__

Ginny,

Have a wonderful birthday. I hope you're looking forward to our three dances as much as I am.

"_Well?_" Shannon demanded. "Who sent them?"

Ginny folded the card closed again. "There's no name," she said, smiling at Harry's thoughtfulness.

Gwen squealed. "A secret admirer!"

Ria rolled her eyes at Gwen. "They _are _pretty," she conceded. "Are you sure you have no idea who sent them?"

Ginny looked at her, the smile still tugging on her mouth. "I never said that."

"Tell us!" Shannon ordered. "Who do you know that can afford orchids at the end of October?"

Ginny shook her head. "I have an _idea_," she said. "But there's no name on the card, so anything I say would just be a guess."

Try as the other girls might to get Ginny to tell, she remained as mute on the subject as if she'd taken some of Mike Fletcher's Pepperup potion.

*****

After classes were over for the day, Ginny and her dorm mates reconvened in their room, freshly showered and ready for intensive hours of primping. Gwen immediately took charge, bullying Ria into an upswept hairstyle and just a hint of makeup. "It's not too much!" Gwen exclaimed. "Just hold still!"

Ria made a horrible face. "You can't go to a ball without lipstick," Gwen told her sternly. "It's a light color. You'll cope."

"She's right," Ginny offered from her perch on the bed. Shannon agreed as well.

Finally Ria gave in. "_Only_ lipstick," she warned. "That's all the goop I'll let you put on my face."

Next it was Shannon's turn. Gwen used her wand to charm Shannon's shoulder-length hair into soft ringlets, and then painstakingly applied complicated eye makeup to her blue eyes. Shannon, enraptured with the result, thanked Gwen profusely. Gwen tossed her head and affected a posh accent. "It's what I do best, _dahling_," she said with a laugh.

Gwen's own hair was short and blonde, cut in a trendy, shaggy style. She ran some Sleekeasy's Hair Potion through it and then finger-styled it into sophisticated waves. "You look like a twenties movie star," Ria said. The other girls looked at her with some confusion. She shrugged. "It's a Muggle thing."

"Is it good?" Gwen asked.

"Absolutely," Ria reassured her.

Gwen turned back to her reflection. "All right then," she said with a satisfied smile. "It's Ginny's turn. What should we do with your hair, Gin?"

Ginny looked around the room. She didn't want the same style as any of her friends; she wanted to be original. "An updo?" Gwen suggested. "Or some curls?"

Suddenly, Ginny had a flash of inspiration. She rifled through her trunk and pulled out the issue of _Vogue_ she bought the day she had visited the grocery store with Harry. It was battered and some pages were torn; the magazine had been passed around to all the Gryffindor girls, and then had found its way to Hufflepuff and even Ravenclaw before Ginny managed to track it down and get it back. She flipped through the pages until she found the article she had been looking for and held it out to Gwen.

"Hair extensions?" Gwen read, taking the magazine for a closer look.

"The muggles do it when they want to have long hair for the night," Ginny answered.

Gwen seemed confused. "You…want me to attach fake hair to your head?"

"Of course not," Ginny answered, impatient. "But there has to be some kind of charm to grow it out until tomorrow."

Gwen frowned for a moment, and then pulled a book off of her shelf and flipped through it rapidly. "Ah ha!" she finally exclaimed. "This should work just fine. Stand up, Gin."

Ginny stood, and Gwen pointed her wand at Ginny's head and said "_Saeta Autus_."

Ginny stared at her reflection as her hair lengthened. It went down her back, past her waist and kept going. When it reached her knees, she said, "Um, Gwen? I think you need to stop it now."

Gwen was frantically paging through her book. "I'm looking! Patience!"

"_Gwen_!" Ginny cried as her hair reached the floor and began to pool around her feet.

"For heaven's sake!" Ria exclaimed, pulling out her wand. "_Finite Incantatum_!"

The runaway hair growth stopped. It hung all the way down Ginny's back and over most of the floor. "You won't be able to dance like that," Shannon said, shaking her head.

"Thanks," Ginny answered. "Because, you know, the fact that my hair is twenty feet long is a problem that _pales_ in comparison to how I'll dance tonight."

"Hang on," Gwen said, still flipping through her book. "I can fix it." She located the appropriate spell, pointed her wand at Ginny's head, and said "_Decresco_!"

To Ginny's great relief, her hair began to shorten. When it reached her waist, Gwen said "_Finite Incantatum_." The hair stopped.

Ginny frowned in the mirror. "Isn't it still too long?" she asked.

"It's _perfect_," Gwen said testily. "I just have to fix it up a bit."

She considered Ginny's head from all angles, and then pulled out her wand and said "_Torqueo_!"

Ginny's hair twisted into tightly kinked curls. She looked like the girl in the _Orphan Annie_ comics her father had shown her.

"That's terrible," Shannon volunteered.

Gwen frowned. She pulled out her wand again. "_Derigo_," she said. The curls unwound into long, straight, flat locks.

"That is, quite possibly, even worse," Ria said. "She looks like Morticia Addams." The other three girls turned to look at her. She shrugged. "It's a Muggle thing."

Gwen turned back to Ginny, who was starting to think that perhaps hair extensions and magic were not meant to go together. "Last try," Gwen said, tapping Ginny's head with her wand. "_Crispo_."

Before her eyes, Ginny's hair transformed a mass of tousled waves, cascading to her waist. She had to admit the effect was beautiful, but it reminded her a bit too much of Mórrígan for comfort. Ria and Shannon were complimenting Gwen on her work, however, and so Ginny didn't say anything. It _did_ look nice, and it was only for one night after all. Tomorrow she'd have her regular, shoulder length, mostly straight hair back.

Gwen put a light coating of cosmetics on Ginny's face. "Not too much," Gwen reassured. "You're too fair skinned for really dramatic colors."

When her makeup was done, Ginny donned her white silk dress robes, careful of the delicate fabric. They were sleeveless, with a modestly cut neckline and a low, plunging back. The skirt just touched the tops of her glass slippers. Ginny made sure the ring around her neck was concealed beneath the dress, and then twirled in a circle to make the skirt bell out. _It's amazing what smart clothes can do for a girl's mood_, she thought. _Especially when it's said girl's sixteenth birthday_!

Gwen frowned at Ginny's ensemble. "It's missing something," she mused. "I just can't think what…." Gwen trailed off, and then her face lit up. "Gin, where are your orchids?"

Seconds later, Gwen was fixing the flowers in Ginny's hair in a seemingly haphazard fashion. "Stay still!" she ordered. "The charm won't hold them if you're squirming around." When Gwen finished, she turned Ginny back to face the mirror. Gwen had tangled the orchids in Ginny's newly waist-length locks, spacing them at random down Ginny's back. It looked like she'd fallen asleep in a field of flowers. "_And_," Gwen said in a satisfied tone, "now you won't have to wear any fragrance!"

Ginny wondered how Harry would react when she showed up at the ball with his flowers in her hair. She couldn't imagine what he'd say, but she thought it might be interesting to find out. She slung the cloak around her shoulders and fastened the silver clasps. "Are we all ready?" she asked.

"Oh, wait!" Gwen exclaimed. "Gin, there's this charm I've been dying to try out. Do you mind?"

"Can't you do it on one of them?" she asked, motioning to Ria and Shannon. Ginny had no desire to be the guinea pig for one of Gwen's charm experiments.

"Sorry," Gwen replied. "They don't have freckles. It's a freckle charm."

"You're not going to remove them, are you?" Ginny asked. She was rather fond of her freckles and wouldn't have felt quite herself without them.

"It's a surprise," Gwen answered. "Just come here and hold still."

Ginny screwed her eyes shut and braced herself for the charm. "_Arum Niteo_," Gwen said.

Ginny looked in the mirror and gasped. Her freckles were…_gold_. They shimmered on her face, catching the light. "It worked!" Gwen looked extremely pleased with herself. "I found it in a book a few months ago."

"Can you make them silver?" Ginny asked. "Gold doesn't really go with my outfit."

"Of course," Gwen answered. "If I got Ria to wear lipstick then I can do anything." She paged through her book, found the appropriate spell, and said, "_Argentum Niteo_."

Ginny opened her eyes and turned back to the mirror. "It's perfect," she breathed. The delicate silver shimmer across her nose and cheekbones drew attention to her eyes and picked up the silver of the chain around her neck.

"Ginny," Gwen said standing back and looking at her dispassionately, "tonight you are my masterpiece. Don't get me wrong; objectively speaking Shannon is prettier than you are, but tonight everyone will be looking at you."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Thanks so much, Gwen. I'm touched."

The four girls headed to the entrance hall. All the way down, Shannon and, to Ginny's surprise, Ria showered Gwen with compliments and thanks. Gwen accepted them all as her due. "After all," she said, "When the day comes that I actually have paying customers, I'll be an expert after practicing on you three."

*****

Harry smoothed his hands down the front of his green dress robes and pretended to listen to Seamus's story about how he met his date for the ball. While Ron and Hermione listened attentively, Harry's eyes wandered around the entrance hall, briefly resting on Ernie MacMillian who stared at Hannah Abbott with a sad-puppy expression. Harry frowned. He didn't like the idea that Ginny's date was someone who wasn't thrilled to go with her. In fact, Harry didn't like the fact that Ginny's date was someone who wasn't Harry. Maybe he should go have a chat with MacMillian before she came down….

"So she sent me a butterbeer to soften me up first," Seamus prattled on. "I _never_ would've thought to ask her myself, but a girl who buys the drinks is a rare find, am I right? Even if she is a—"

"Seamus!" A pretty, petite girl with a friendly face and long red hair joined the four Gryffindors where they stood against the wall. Harry gave her a brief nod; he was still fantasizing about taking MacMillian for a walk and explaining to him that if Ginny didn't have a good time then he, Harry, would break MacMillian's nose.

Seamus grinned at the group. "Everybody, this is Dana Silvermoon. Fourth year. Dana, this is…everybody."

Hermione smiled at her. "Nice to meet you," she said.

Ron nodded in agreement. "I've seen you around," he told her, "but I didn't catch what house you're in. Ravenclaw, right?"

She shook her head. "My twin is in Ravenclaw. You're probably thinking of her. I'm—"

Seamus interrupted. "I didn't know you had a twin. I've always wondered what that would be like. Or to have any siblings at all."

"It's awful," Ron said. "No privacy, practical jokes all the time, they're always getting into your business. Right, Dana?"

She laughed. "It's true. Twice as bad when it's a twin; especially when people can't even tell you apart half the time. At least my sister and I are in different houses."

"But speaking as an only child, I've always thought it would be nice to have a brother or sister to talk to and do things with," Hermione said. "Right, Harry?"

Harry didn't hear her, because at that moment the sixth year Gryffindor girls came down the stairs. He looked right past the first three who were talking and laughing about something and his eyes rested on Ginny, who hung back a little. Harry's mouth went dry. She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. She was positively luminous, a pillar of silver light in the dim entrance hall. Her white silk dress robes set off the creaminess of her skin and their form-fitting cut left almost nothing to Harry's imagination, which seemed to be working overtime. Her hair fell to her hips in a red-gold cascade of riotous waves and…_dear god_…she was wearing his orchids. Harry's fingers itched to touch her skin, to see if it was as soft as the silk of her dress. He wanted to smell the perfume of the flowers she wore in her hair, knowing that he was the one who gave them to her.

She had been in his thoughts every moment of every day for the past month. He had evaluated his feelings over and over and, when he finally started being honest with himself, Harry reached an irrevocable and undeniable conclusion. What's more, Harry knew she felt the same way. He had _seen_ it that morning by the fire. And he wouldn't rest tonight until she admitted it out loud. He could sense that Ginny avoided him because she was afraid of something. He was determined to find out what and then eliminate the problem. But it had to be soon. Every time he saw her it was near agony, both emotional and physical. With any luck the torture of wanting her and not having her would be over by the end of the evening.

Ginny was almost to the bottom of the stairs when her eyes met Harry's over the heads of the crowd. She gave him a dazzling smile although her eyes were guarded, as they always were lately when she was near him. He knew they wouldn't get anywhere as long as she looked him with that wary expression. Harry thought of that morning in the common room, thought of the piece of her he held inside of him and wondered if it might yield a hint or two about how he should proceed. As long as she avoided him she held the upper hand, but maybe he could use their link to turn the situation to his advantage. _After all_, he thought, _the Sorting Hat almost put me in Slytherin for a reason_.

Ron laughed, and Harry snapped out of his reverie and turned to his friend. "Gwen Winters?" Ron said, following Harry's gaze and shaking his head. "She's way out of your league, mate." Harry didn't bother to correct his friend as to which sixth year had caught his attention. He turned his thoughts inward and reached his mind out to Ginny's, his eyes never leaving her form as she continued down the stairs. He felt her presence inside of him and gently tried to reach inside. She froze midstep and her mouth fell open in a little _O_ of surprise. She knew exactly what he was doing.

Harry frowned. _I can't be so obvious_, he admonished himself. _I'll scare her off if I don't do this exactly right_. This would take patience, he knew, but being a seeker had helped him develop patience to spare. Harry started to plan.

*****

Ginny caught Harry's eye as she neared the bottom of the steps. He stared at her with a strange, almost hungry expression that made her face heat up and her heart beat faster. She began to feel lightheaded, and rested her hand on the stair rail for balance. The utter fascination she saw reflected in his eyes almost made Ginny lose her nerve. She very nearly turned and ran right back up the stairs, but stopped herself just in time. _Are you a Gryffindor or not_? Ginny thought sternly. After a moment's hesitation, she squared her shoulders, shot him her brightest smile, and continued down the steps. She saw her brother laugh but Harry seemed to be thinking hard about something and didn't notice the joke. Except for a quick glance at Ron, he still hadn't stopped staring at her. Gwen's voice echoed in her mind: _Ginny, tonight you are my masterpiece._

"Fine," Ginny said under her breath. "Let him look then." She was one step away from the bottom of the staircase when the oddest sensation washed over her. She froze; her eyes flew to his. Harry's gaze was intent and unblinking. Ginny felt it again, a gentle but insistent tugging in the corner of her brain. Her mouth fell open in surprise as she realized what was going on; _the bastard was trying to read her mind_! She stared at him, incredulous, and the feeling stopped as suddenly as it started. His piercing emerald gaze remained on her face, reflecting his need, challenging her to continue down the stairs, imploring her to stop hiding from him. Ginny clutched the railing so hard her knuckles turned white, torn between brazening it out by pretending that nothing had passed between them and running for her life until she reached the safety of her dorm.

Ginny felt a hand cover hers on the stair rail. "Ginny?" Ernie said. "Is everything all right?" She tore her gaze from Harry's and looked at her date. It took her a moment to bring her mind back into focus and to remember who he was and what he was doing there.

Finally she smiled, overcompensating for her strange behavior. "Ernie! I was looking for you. This is such a crowd, isn't it?" She took the last step down and looped her arm through his. "Do you think we could go into the hall?" She could feel Harry's eyes still on her and was desperate to put as much space as possible between herself and that green stare, so unsettling in its intensity.

Ernie began steering her through the crowd to the door of the Great Hall when she felt it again: an insistent yet gentle probing in the back of her mind. _What the hell does he think he's doing_? She looked over her shoulder at Harry, who still leaned against the wall in the corner; his arms folded over his chest and a lock of dark hair hung in his eyes. _Two can play at that game_, Ginny thought, and tentatively reached into the link they shared, stretching her mind into his. For the third time that evening, their eyes locked across the room.

Harry tilted his head at the strangeness of having his thoughts invaded by her. A wild idea occurred to him. _What are you so afraid of?_ He sent the question from his mind to hers through the connection she had opened. He watched her eyes widen as she spun around violently and tightened her grip on Ernie's arm. 

A satisfied smile crept slowly across Harry's face. The experiment had worked. She heard him. That certainly made things interesting. Harry pushed away from the wall and turned to his friends. "I'm starved," he said. "Let's go get a table before all the good ones are taken." He was suddenly looking forward to this ball very much.

*****

Ginny and Ernie walked into the Great Hall, which was beginning to fill with students. The four long house tables were gone, replaced by many round tables surrounded by eight chairs each. Hagrid's tremendous jack-o'-lanterns lined two of the walls; the candles inside cast a flickering pattern of light and shadow over the hall. Students seated themselves along house lines, talking and laughing softly. The party wouldn't get loud for hours yet.

"Do you want to sit with the Hufflepuffs?" Ginny asked Ernie.

He glanced over to the corner his house had claimed as its own and said, "No, that's all right. We can sit with the Gryffindors."

"If you'd rather—"

"No, really." He smiled down at her and then looked back at the Hufflepuffs. "I'd rather sit with your friends."

Ginny followed his eyes to a table bathed in the flickering candlelight. Hannah Abbott and Mike Fletcher sat _very_ closely. Hannah leaned in and whispered in his ear; Mike laughed and put his arm around her, a look of adoration on his face.

"Right," Ginny said under her breath, steering Ernie away from the scene. She eyed the Gryffindor section of the hall, searching for a table that would be halfway entertaining. Ernie looked like he could use some good conversation. Shannon and Gwen were both paired with Ravenclaws and so were on the other side of the room. Ginny saw Colin and Denis Creevey sitting together, but passed them over when she saw that Ria was sitting alone, scanning the crowd for someone to talk to. "Come on," Ginny tugged on Ernie's arm. "I found a table."

Ria's face lit up when Ginny slid into the seat next to her. "Thank the gods you're here," Ria said. "I was so bored I was about to go sit with the Creeveys."

Ginny grinned at her friend. "Good thing we saved her, right Ernie?" When he didn't answer Ginny looked over at him; he was staring at Hannah again. Ginny rolled her eyes and turned back to Ria. "Don't mind him," she lowered her voice to a faux-confidential whisper. "He's a bit lovesick."

Ria looked at Hannah and Mike, and then back to Ginny. "They look pretty cozy."

Ginny shrugged. "I suppose. Mike claims to be absolutely mad for her." She fell silent when Harry entered her field of vision. He spotted her from across the room and started for their table with purposeful strides, trailed by Ron, Hermione, Seamus, and a girl Ginny didn't know.

When he reached their table, Harry gave Ria his brightest smile. "Is anyone sitting here?" He indicated the five empty chairs.

Ria smiled back. "Not at all," she said. "Take a seat."

"I'd love to, thanks." He sat in the chair directly opposite Ginny and shifted his smile to her. That cautiously guarded look was back in full force. He wondered how to get rid of it, and then decided it wasn't so important at the moment. Eventually she'd get used to him sitting with her; her brother and Ria would be adequate distractions. And for now he was directly across from her, able to appreciate the light in her eyes and the orchids, _his orchids_, in her hair and, was that _glitter_ across her cheekbones? Well, he had no idea why she would wear glitter, but it made her face look positively ethereal. _Probably Gwen's idea_, he figured.

Ernie finally tore his eyes away from Hannah long enough to ask Ginny, "Can I take your cloak?"

"What?"

"There's a cloak check over there," he pointed to a door near the Hufflepuff region of the hall. "Can I take it for you? Unless you're cold."

"No, I'm fine. Thanks." She opened the silver clasps of her cloak and handed it to him, knowing that he wanted an excuse to walk by Hannah. Far be it from her to stand in the way of such tenacious stalking tendencies.

When Ernie was out of earshot, Ginny turned to the red-haired girl and said, "Hi, I'm Ginny Weasley. I don't think we've met. You're a Ravenclaw, right?"

The girl rolled her eyes. "My sister is. I'm _Dana_ Silvermoon."

Ginny raised an eyebrow and smiled wryly. "A Slytherin, Seamus?"

"_You're_ here with a Hufflepuff, so I don't really think you have any room to talk," Dana said. She caught Ginny's laughing gaze and glanced at Ron, who looked very surprised indeed.

"You're a _Slytherin?_" He was astounded. "But you were so nice!"

"I still am," Dana said easily, realizing that Ginny had only been trying to get a reaction from her brother. "After all, a girl who buys the drinks is a rare find, or so I hear." Dana gave her date an arch look. Seamus had the grace to blush.

"I should say so," Ginny agreed. She thought she might like this girl, even if she _was_ a Slytherin. Ginny was surprised to see her with a Gryffindor, granted, but Dana was right. With a Hufflepuff as her date, Ginny had absolutely no room to talk.

Ginny introduced Dana to Ria, and the Gryffindors began telling Dana potions stories, each one more horrible than the last. It became a game to try to top each other, especially since Dana didn't believe a word. "But Professor Snape is always so nice!" she protested more than once. Still, she had tears of laughter in her eyes at Ginny's dead-on impression of the greasy-haired teacher.

Sometime during their performance, Ernie slipped back into his seat. Ginny didn't really pay any attention to him, as he wasn't paying any attention to her. All he wanted to do was stare across the room at Hannah and Mike, occasionally sighing wistfully. Ginny was ready to dump her plate of food over his head. She wished that she had followed her first instincts and come without a partner, for all the good this one was doing her. _How long ago was their breakup, anyway_? she wondered. Shannon would know. But Shannon was all the way across the room, locked in a soulful gaze with some insufferably brilliant Ravenclaw.

Ginny looked up at the Hufflepuff section, where it appeared that Mike and Hannah were in imminent danger of forgetting they were in public. Just then, so quickly that Ginny almost missed it, Hannah glanced at their table. _That little witch_, Ginny thought, amused in spite of herself. _She's only doing this to get to Ernie_. Ginny watched the pair carefully throughout the rest of the meal. Sure enough, every time Hannah laid a hand on Mike's arm or whispered in his ear she glanced over to the Gryffindor area to make sure Ernie was getting an eyeful. Ginny felt bad for Mike; he liked Hannah so much and had no idea that he was being used.

Dinner seemed to last forever. Ginny tried to keep the conversation going as best as she could, and Seamus, Ron, and Dana were a great help. The three of them were full of funny stories and slightly off-color jokes. Unfortunately, Ernie wouldn't stop _sighing_ and Harry wouldn't stop _staring_ and, all in all, Ginny was very relieved when the meal ended.

The band began tuning up their instruments for dancing, and Dumbledore moved the tables to the edge of the room with a wave of his wand. The chatter of the students grew louder with excitement. Ginny stood, smoothed the creases out of her dress robes, and gave Ernie an expectant look. She felt a hand on her arm. "My dance, I think," Harry said.

"No," Ginny answered.

Harry looked surprised. "You promised two slow songs and one fast song. They're about to play a slow song. I claim this dance."

"_You can't_," Ginny told him. "Not the first one of the night."

Harry was confused. "Why not?"

"Because I'm here _with_ somebody. I have to dance the first dance with my _dance partner_."

Harry gave Ernie an irritated glance. "I honestly don't think he'd notice, Gin."

She rolled her eyes. "Next one. I promise." That would be one down, leaving only two more dances she'd have to give him. Maybe getting them all out of the way early would be the best thing to do after that horrible telepathy trick he had pulled on her earlier.

Ginny's dance with Ernie was uninspiring, to say the least. She tried to converse with him, but he wasn't interested in anything she had to say. He didn't step on her feet, and he was scrupulously polite, but she knew full well that he didn't want to be there with her. When the song ended, Ginny started analyzing the room for escape plans. This was ridiculous. She decided that if she wasn't having fun half an hour from now, she would go back to Gryffindor tower and go to bed. At least then she wouldn't be tired for the Hogsmeade trip tomorrow.

Ginny started off of the dance floor and ran smack into Harry. He closed his hands around her arms to steady her balance and smiled down at her. "My turn?" he asked. 

Ginny turned to Ernie, but he had already wandered off. She looked up at Harry. "I suppose it is," she answered. 

Harry slid his hands down her bare arms and threaded his fingers through hers, raising one of her hands to shoulder height and placing her other hand on his shoulder. He rested his left hand on her waist. The band launched into a new slow song, and Harry confidently led Ginny around the floor.

"I thought you were a terrible dancer," she said in surprise.

He raised his eyebrows. "Who told you that?"

"Neville Longbottom," she answered. When he looked surprised she laughed and said, "Parvati Patil told me. She would know, I suppose."

He laughed and shook his head. "My cousin wanted ballroom dancing lessons to impress some girl. My aunt and uncle made me be his practice partner for the entire summer between fifth and sixth year."

Ginny laughed too, at the mental image of tall, slim Harry slowly revolving hand in hand with his short, fat cousin. "Who had to be the girl?" she asked.

"I did, of course."

"So you never learned how to lead." She was teasing him now, and the wary expression had vanished almost entirely. 

The smile she gave him made him want to sink his hands into her hair and kiss her senseless. Instead, he forced himself to shrug nonchalantly and say, "It's not that difficult. I just have to remember to do the steps in reverse." After that, they were silent for a moment.

"Mum made me take lessons," she volunteered to fill the lull in the conversation. "Piano, ballroom dance…she said that music and dancing were things every proper young lady should know." Ginny gave Harry an exasperated look. "I told her it was pointless. I mean, do I resemble a proper young lady _at all_?"

"You're an excellent dancer, at any rate," Harry said. "You haven't stepped on my feet even once."

"You know, Harry, that's the first compliment I've gotten since I left Gryffindor tower." She gave him a sheepish look. "Thanks very much."

Harry gasped in mock horror. "You mean MacMillian didn't tell you that your impression of Professor Snape is frighteningly accurate?" 

Ginny laughed. "No, I'm afraid he didn't."

"Or that your dress robes turned out perfectly?"

She shook her head.

"Or that you're the most beautiful girl he's ever seen?" Harry's voice had completely lost its teasing tone.

"Harry—"

"Did he tell you that?"

"I don't think—"

"What, Ginny? Tell me." He lowered his head until his mouth was only a few inches from hers. "Tell me," he repeated. "Why have you been running from me?" His thumb stroked her waist through the silk of her dress. "What can I do, Ginny? Tell me what I have to do and I'll do it."

She shook her head. "I don't understand."

"Would you like me to spell it out for you? Ginny, I—"

"_Don't!_" she exclaimed.

"_Why not_!" Harry was half tempted to reach inside her head and pull out the answers he needed, but he knew she would never forgive him. He took a deep breath to calm himself down. "There's no reason for you to be afraid of me." He squeezed her hand to reinforce his words. "I would never _ever_ hurt you, Ginny. You know that, right?"

Ginny held Harry's gaze for a long moment, and suddenly she just _knew_. She knew what he was trying to tell her, even though he hadn't said the words yet. "_Harry_," she whispered. Gods, how could something like this have happened? How could she not have noticed?

The music faded to a halt. They stood there, hand in hand, looking at each other. Neither one knew what to say. Ginny spotted Ernie making his way through the crowd, looking flustered. She figured she'd be disconcerted as well if she found her date looking at someone the way she was probably looking at Harry. Then she remembered that her date had, in fact, spent the _entire evening_ looking at someone the way she was looking at Harry. Ginny suddenly found her patience for Ernie considerably lessened.

Harry saw Ernie too. "I want the next dance," he said quickly before the other boy could reach them through the crowd.

"You can't have two in a row," Ginny answered. "It's against the rules." But she didn't pull away from him.

"What rules?"

"_My_ rules. It would be rude."

Ernie finally made his way to their sides. "Do you mind if I keep her for one more song, MacMillian?" Harry asked him.

Ginny stepped on his foot. Hard. "_Harry_, I don't think that's such a good idea."

"No, it's all right, Ginny," Ernie said, his eyes fixed somewhere over her head. "I'll get us some drinks while you dance this song with Potter."

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"It's no problem." He finally met her eyes and smiled at her before leaving in the direction from which he came.

The music started a second time, and once again Harry slowly revolved Ginny around the floor. "Now where were we?" he asked. She shrugged. 

"I believe you were about to tell me that you feel about me the same way I feel about you." He was no longer smiling.

Ginny opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She swallowed hard, licked her lips and started again. "Harry, I don't think you've thought this through properly." Oh, now where did that come from? It wasn't at all what she had meant to say.

"You told me that morning that we could talk about it after we've thought it over. It's all I've thought about for the past month, Gin," he answered. His voice seemed deeper than usual. "I'm sure about myself. I'm just not sure about you. I'm done thinking. Now it's time to talk."

He fell silent again, waiting patiently for her answer. Ginny got the impression that he would wait all night, if she expected it of him. Her mind wandered through all sorts of inconsequential thoughts: anything to keep from contemplating what he was demanding of her. _When did he get so tall?_ she wondered.

He smiled. _I heard that_, he sent the thought to her. _It was mostly during fifth year._

Ginny's hand tightened convulsively around his. "What's going on?" she whispered. "Everything's different suddenly. How do we change it back?"

Harry rested his forehead against hers, never ceasing the gentle revolutions of their dance. "I wouldn't change it for anything," he murmured. "Not for all the gold in Gringotts."

"Easy to say for someone who already owns practically all the gold in Gringotts."

"You've got me there." His smile faded. "Say something, Ginny."

"I need time, Harry," she whispered. "I have to figure this out."

"I already know how you feel."

"How nice for you." She tried to pull away, but he held her close.

Harry cursed inwardly. That had been the wrong thing to say. Maybe he'd have to wait a bit longer to hear her say the words; just because _he_ knew how she felt didn't mean that she knew as well. In fact, she quite obviously didn't. _Oh well_, he thought, _they say that discretion is the better part of valor_. _And that means knowing when to back off. _"Would you rather talk about this later?" he asked out loud.

Ginny nodded, her eyes fixed straight ahead.

"Hey, Gin," he implored. "Look at me, please?" She raised her chin and he saw that he had truly upset her by reminding her that they could read each other's thoughts. "It's not going away, Gin. You know it's not. We'll just have to figure out how to deal with it."

She gave him a half-hearted smile. "It'll probably make Quidditch more interesting."

He laughed at that. "I could just see Malfoy now! Trying to tell Madam Hooch that the Gryffindors are cheating by using telepathy!" His face turned serious again. "You're not in the clear yet, Ginny. We _will_ talk about this again later."

Ginny didn't answer, but she didn't look away from his face either. They held each other's gazes until the song finally ended.

*****

Ginny wandered through the crowd looking for Ernie. Five songs ago he said he would get them some drinks, but then he disappeared. She hoped he hadn't gotten sick; he had seemed more distracted than usual when she saw him last.

Ginny spotted Dana in the crowd and pushed her way over to the girl. "Dana, have you seen Ernie?" she asked. "He said he'd get some drinks but I can't find him anywhere."

"Dana?" she asked. "Did you just call me Dana? I'm _Delia_ Silvermoon, Ravenclaw."

"Nice to meet you—" Ginny began, but the girl cut her off.

"And you're looking for Ernie MacMillian are you?" The expression on her face was not at all nice. "He just left."

"Was he all right?" Ginny might not have been having a good time with him, but she hoped he wasn't ill.

"Oh, he looked _just_ fine. Hannah Abbott certainly thought so." Ginny gave the girl an odd look, and Delia laughed. "They were _together_," she said slowly. "Do I have to spell it out for you?"

"No thanks," Ginny answered.

"Well one can never be too sure," Delia said. "You_ are_ a Gryffindor, after all. You didn't even realize that he was just _using_ you to make her jealous." She seemed nearly overcome with malicious glee. Ginny had no idea how two girls could look identical but have such opposite temperaments. She thought that Delia was definitely the twin who belonged in Slytherin.

"Have a _wonderful_ night," Delia said, all false friendliness.

Ginny didn't bother to reply. She turned on her heel and started toward the row of tall windows that lined one side of the hall. She had no idea why Delia would lie about Ernie and Hannah leaving together, but she wanted to see for herself. If they had, in fact, ducked out of the ball then chances were that the couple would soon be visible through the windows, stealing across the grounds for a bit of privacy in the bushes.

Halfway to her destination, Ginny passed Pansy Parkinson, arm in arm with Draco Malfoy. The pair eyed Seamus and Dana scornfully and Pansy said, loud enough for Ginny to overhear, "I'm surprised she came with a Gryffindor."

"I'm not," he replied. "You can't expect proper house pride from a mudblood."

Unfortunately for them, they had also spoken loud enough for Dana to overhear. As Ginny watched, the younger girl turned and faced Draco, challenge evident in her posture. Loathing burned in her gray eyes. "Better a Gryffindor than the son of a Death Eater."

Everyone standing nearby gasped. Ginny's mouth fell open. Had Dana really just said that? In the middle of a crowd of people? _To Draco Malfoy's face?_ Ginny couldn't comprehend why the girl wasn't in Gryffindor, where she so obviously belonged. Especially considering that she wasn't a pureblood.

Draco's lips pressed into a thin line. "My father was under the Imperius Curse," he spat out through clenched teeth.

"A story believed by exactly no one. Including you, I'm sure," Dana replied. The two Slytherins' barely repressed hatred for each other was palpable. This was obviously not the first confrontation between them.

Draco's hand flexed. _He's going for his wand_, Ginny realized. That thought was immediately followed by: _Who brings their wand to a school ball?_ But she was already in motion, stepping between them, her eyes fixed, unblinking, on Draco's. Ginny barely registered Seamus, Ria, and Ron joining her in front of Dana. The sounds of the ball receded as Ginny's entire focus narrowed on the older boy's face: the angry glint in his silver eyes, the curves of light and shadow over the planes of his high cheekbones, the arrogant tilt of his chin. Only Harry's arrival on the scene jarred her concentration enough that she could shake out of the trance. Harry flicked his eyes over the group, nonchalantly pulled out his wand, and asked in a mild tone, "Is there a problem, Malfoy?"

"It's none of your business, Potter," Draco answered without moving his eyes from Ginny's. "It's a Slytherin matter."

"_Teacher!_" a girl hissed. Draco and Harry shoved their wands back in their pockets as Professor Snape strode up to the circle of students. "Is Potter bothering you, Mr. Malfoy?" he asked. He was obviously itching for an excuse to take points from Gryffindor.

Draco opened his mouth but before he could speak Dana shoved her way through the phalanx of Gryffindors and said, "No, Professor. We were all just talking." The students who had witnessed the confrontation nodded in agreement. Only Harry, Draco, and Ginny remained still.

"Very well," Snape answered, but he didn't move from his spot in the middle of the crowd. The students immediately began to disperse. Seamus dragged Dana away from her housemates and, seeing that there was no need for her continued presence, Ginny resumed her walk towards the windows that faced the front of the castle.

She looked out across the school grounds. No sign of her errant date and his not-so-ex-girlfriend. Well, all right. She could be patient.

Someone nudged Ginny's back and she turned to see Mike Fletcher, balancing two butterbeers and a plate of chocolates. Ginny groaned inwardly. Of all the people she _didn't_ want to see at the moment….

"Gin, have you seen Hannah?" Mike asked. "She sent me for drinks ages ago and I haven't been able to find her. Do you know where she is?"

Just then, Ginny spotted two cloaked figures stealing across the lawns, hand in hand. Delia had been telling the truth. She grabbed one of Mike's butterbeers and took a big swallow. _Maybe it would be best if I didn't sugar coat it_, she thought. Ginny pointed at the pair outside, who stopped halfway to the bushes to steal a kiss. "She's right there." Ginny took another swallow from the bottle. "With Ernie."

Mike stared at the couple and then turned to Ginny in disbelief. "Ernie MacMillian? Why would she be out there with _Ernie MacMillian_?"

"They used to date," Ginny answered as the pair moved behind the hedges and out of sight from the Great Hall.

"Where did you hear that?"

"Shannon."

Mike looked as though someone had hit him across the face. "But she was _my_ date. She asked _me_."

Ginny squeezed his arm. "I guess they asked us to make each other jealous. Not very Hufflepuffian of them, but there you are. It was pretty obvious Ernie wanted to be with her." She drained the rest of the drink. This night was positively surreal. Discovering bizarre telepathic connections, narrowly avoiding an emotional Harry-revelation, breaking up a fight between a couple of Slytherins, and now she had been abandoned by a _Hufflepuff_, someone who was supposed to be steadfast and loyal. And on her _birthday_, too.

Mike rested his forehead against the cool smoothness of the windowpane and tilted his head to look down at Ginny. "How could something like this happen to me?" he groaned. "I will _never_ live this down. You have no idea, Gin."

Ginny rolled her eyes and started on the second butterbeer. "My partner deserted me too, you know. It's not the end of the world."

"Easy for you to say. You didn't even _want_ a partner," Mike said angrily. He grabbed the bottle from her hands and took a long drink.

"Get over yourself," Ginny told him. Drinking a bottle and a half of butterbeer so quickly made her head feel a bit floaty, and the words tumbled out of her mouth before she had a chance to censor them. "You're just upset because you don't want to look stupid. It's not like you actually _care_ about Hannah. She's blond and popular and you were happy because you got to be seen with her, not because you got to spend time with her."

Mike turned so that he was leaning against the wall and gave the dancers a sullen glare. "So what now?" he asked.

Ginny thought for a moment. "Well, we could ruin the rest of my birthday by standing here snapping at each other, or we could decide to make the best of it, dance a bit, and try to salvage some fun out of this stupid ball."

He looked down at her in surprise. "Weren't you having fun?"

"Not particularly."

The pair leaned side-by-side against the wall for two more songs without speaking. Finally, Mike set his empty bottle on the windowsill with a click. As the band struck up a the last song of the evening he said, "I don't suppose you know how to waltz."

"As a matter of fact, I do. But only when asked nicely," she answered, irritated at his tone.

Mike sighed. "I'm sorry Gin. I didn't mean to say it like that. Will you please dance with me?"

"Since you said please…." She gave him a small smile as he grabbed her hand and swung her onto the dance floor.

Ginny and Mike weren't the only ones who spotted the two Hufflepuffs sneaking across the school grounds. A few feet away, Harry sat with Ron, Hermione, and several other Gryffindors. The trio watched the unfolding scene between Mike and Ginny. "I don't _believe_ this!" Harry exclaimed in indignation. "MacMillian asks her to the ball and then just _leaves?_" He scowled at the dancers. "And now she's stuck with Fletcher."

"Yeah, poor Ginny." Ron's voice dripped with sarcasm.

Harry gave his friend a scathing look. "Neither of those guys treat her the way she deserves. Fletcher is always upsetting her on purpose. And _MacMillian_! I can't believe he would do something like this. I'm going to have a talk with him tomorrow."

"Leave him alone, Harry. The ball is almost over and she doesn't look too broken up about it," Ron answered. "What do you care?"

Harry didn't answer. Ron shrugged and turned to Dean and Neville's Quidditch discussion, but Hermione wasn't about to give up so easily. Her expression was shrewd as she sized Harry up and then asked him quietly, "Why _do_ you care so much?"

The look he gave her spoke volumes. Her eyes widened. "I see," she said. 

"You don't see anything," he said, glancing at Ron.

"I won't tell him, if that's what you're worried about," Hermione said. "Although he might take it better than you think."

Harry shook his head. "Not a word, Hermione. Promise me."

She dutifully crossed her heart. "I promise."

*****

The last notes of the waltz faded away, and the students gathered their things and began leaving the Great Hall. Mike and Ginny hung back a bit from the throng. "Thanks, Gin, for…saying what you did. It really did make me feel better," he said.

"It seems like lately you're always either apologizing or thanking me for something or other," she answered, craning her neck trying to spot her dorm mates in the crowd.

"Can I make it up to you?" he asked. "I owe you, I think, for dancing with me tonight and being such a good sport about the Pepperup potion two weeks ago."

"That depends on how you're planning on making it up." Ginny gave him a mischievous smile. "It'll have to be good."

"What if I told you I'd give you a present?" he asked, a teasing light in his eyes. "Will you meet me at the Three Broomsticks tomorrow?"

She frowned. "Well, I promised Gwen and Shannon that I'd help them bully Ria into buying some…. " She trailed off and was silent for a moment. Her face brightened. "I could meet you after. Say, at two o'clock?"

"I'll see you then." He tugged on a lock of her long hair. "Will you be back to normal?"

"This was just one of Gwen's experiments. It'll be short again in the morning."

"I'm glad," he said, but before he could continue Ginny spotted Gwen and Shannon, who were frantically waving her over.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she said brightly, running to join her friends who stood a short distance away with their Ravenclaws.

Ginny filled the girls in on Ernie's desertion and, as expected, they were outraged on her behalf. She told them not to worry so much, but they were determined to make Ernie apologize publicly. "The two of us, plus Ria, will think of a plan," Shannon assured Ginny. 

"You won't have to worry about a thing," Gwen added.

Ginny stood with her friends, half listening to them plot poor Ernie's humiliation, when an interesting scene a few feet away caught her attention. On Mike's way out of the Hall, he was stopped by Harry, who grabbed his arm and spoke quietly. Ginny edged further into the entrance hall and strained to hear their murmured conversation. She certainly got an earful.

"I heard what you just said," Harry voice was loaded with accusation. "Don't think I don't know what you're trying to do. I've known it since the summer."

Mike met Harry's challenging gaze with a raised eyebrow. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Liar," Harry spat out. "She's way too good for you."

"Don't you think that might be for her to decide?" Compared to Harry, Mike was the epitome of calm collectedness.

"You _bribed_ her. I heard you!" Harry was having trouble keeping his voice low.

"It's her _birthday_," Mike answered. "People give presents on birthdays. And anyway, who Ginny meets in Hogsmeade is none of your damn business."

"I'm _making _it my business," Harry answered. "I swear to God, if you upset her—"

Mike jerked his arm out of Harry's grip. "You obviously don't know me very well at all," he hissed. "I never—"

"You _always_," Harry interrupted.

The two young men stared at each other in mutual dislike for a long, fraught moment, and then they turned and stormed off in opposite directions.

Near Ginny, Dana Silvermoon watched the entire exchange with amazement. "I thought I was supposed to be the bad-tempered Slytherin around here," she muttered under her breath.

"Harry doesn't act like a Slytherin." Apparently she hadn't said it quietly enough as Ron immediately leapt to his friend's defense.

Dana raised her eyebrows and turned to him. "Of course he doesn't. That's why he almost bit someone's head off over your sister. Or did I miss something?" The look in Dana's gray eyes challenged Ron to deny it but after a moment he backed off and walked in the direction Harry had gone. His friend had some explaining to do.

Ginny stood, dumbfounded. She didn't think she had ever been so angry in her entire life. Just because Harry had come to some kind of…_realization_…about her didn't mean that he had _any_ right at all to dictate what she did and who she did it with. There was no excuse for him to talk to Mike that way, especially since his accusations were so far off the mark. Ginny's first instinct was to take off after him and give him a piece of her mind, but she didn't think she'd be able to get anything more coherent than a scream of rage out of her mouth. She had to go somewhere to cool off. Without a word, Ginny turned away from her friends and left the hall.

*****

Once Ginny was free of the castle, she lifted her skirt to her knees and ran as fast as she could across the lawn. She didn't want anyone to spot her through the windows; she was pretty sure she wasn't supposed to be out this late at night, especially not by herself, and without her wand.

The ancient, gnarled oak tree stood on the banks of the lake. Ginny practically slammed into it, she was running so fast. Realizing she had reached her goal, Ginny stretched her arms around the tree and rested her cheek against its scratchy bark, drawing deep, gulping breaths. Trees always had a calming effect on her; it was why she spent so much time in the tree house at the Burrow. She closed her eyes and inhaled the earthy scent of the oak. Her mind slowed almost immediately. Ginny slid her hands back around the trunk until her palms rested in front of her chest. "What am I going to do about him?" she whispered aloud.

A wind whipped through the grass, lifting the dry leaves from the ground and molding her skirt to her legs. For a moment, the only thing Ginny was aware of was the slide of the silk against her skin. The wind abruptly died, as though someone had simply flipped a switch and turned it off. The wood against Ginny's hands and forehead was no longer the rough, uneven surface of tree bark; it was polished and smooth.

Ginny opened her eyes and took a step back. Her palms now rested against a door. She whirled around and saw that she had been transported into a windowless bedroom. The walls were covered with heavy black wooden paneling. Candles covered almost every surface. Dark red wax melted down the sides of the tapers and coagulated on the tables like rivers of blood. They gave off a heavy perfume that curled through Ginny's mind and slowed her senses. The room was crowded with furniture; several armchairs and loveseats were clustered in groups, and in the center of the room was the largest bed Ginny had ever seen. It must have been at least ten feet on a side. All of the furniture was covered in deep red upholstery.

Blood pounded in Ginny's ears, and her breath seemed very loud. _Stupid, stupid, stupid_ going anywhere near an oak tree on Samhain. She should have known better. She _did_ know better. Harry had just completely destroyed her ability to think rationally. She had been pulled into the Otherworld, which meant that Mórrígan must be nearby.

Ginny cautiously stepped around the furniture that cluttered the floor of the room. A movement on the bed stopped her in her tracks. She stared openly at the young woman who slowly sat up and smiled. It was Mórrígan, the same, yet somehow different. This facet of the goddess was younger; she didn't look much older than Ginny. She was still laden with gold and rubies and dressed in burgundy velvet, but her weapons and warlike nature were nowhere to be seen. This had to be the Mórrígan's maiden face. This was the girl who attempted to seduce Cuchullain, the hero of _The Táin_, and then killed him when he refused her. "I've been waiting for you." Mórrígan's voice was husky and low.

Ginny wished she had her wand, even if it didn't work in this world. She resigned herself to the fact that she wasn't getting back to Hogwarts until she listened to whatever it was that the goddess had to say. "What can I do for you?" Ginny asked.

Mórrígan set her bare feet on the floor and straightened in a sinuous motion. "Where do I start?" she answered, trailing her fingers over the back of one of the chairs. "I brought you here to tell you that your world is a dangerous place, Virginia. You won't be able to face it alone much longer."

Ginny couldn't think of a response to that cryptic statement, so she remained silent.

Mórrígan slowly paced across the room towards the spot where Ginny stood. The goddess's smooth, rolling steps put Ginny strongly in mind of a panther. "You need to find your protectors," the goddess said. "You will not be able to do what you must without them."

"I can protect myself," Ginny answered. "I don't need anyone's help."

Mórrígan stood in front of Ginny and looked at her. The goddess was no more than three inches taller than the girl. "You don't know what you need," she said in that slow, smoky voice.

"And you do?"

"I do. Very well." Her scarlet lips curved in a sly smile. Ginny thought that, given the choice, she vastly preferred the violent, warlike Mórrígan to this younger, hyper-sexualized version of the goddess.

"Look at us, Virginia." Mórrígan motioned to a round mirror that leaned against the wall. Ginny turned her head to look at their reflection and gasped in horror. But for their differences in height and the fact that she was dressed all in white, she and the goddess might have been twins. Mórrígan leaned down until her face was only a breath from Ginny's and said, "So you see, you _are_ very much as I was when I was young."

Ginny jerked back several steps and toppled into a chair. She looked up at the goddess. "We are _nothing_ alike. _Nothing!_" Her voice trembled in desperation.

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much," Mórrígan said, her eyes shining with amusement. "You know it's true, Virginia. And because of this I am going to give you some advice." She rested one hand on each arm of Ginny's chair and leaned down. "Find those two people who would protect you to the death, no matter what the circumstances. _Find them_. And soon, because the time is coming when you will need them."

"Are you one of these protectors?"

"Of course not." Mórrígan straightened and looked down at the girl.

Ginny shook her head. "How do you expect me to find two people, out of all the ones in the entire world? It's impossible."

"Virginia, are you going to be difficult after I've gone out of my way to give you such good advice?" Her voice was still calm, but anger flashed in the goddess's eyes. It was gone so quickly, though, Ginny thought she might have imagined it. "I don't care _how_ you find them. Just _find_ them."

"You know," Ginny said. "I never asked for any of this."

"I should say not," Mórrígan replied. Her irritation was evident now. "You were very likely the only person who _didn't_ ask for it, which, of course, is why it fell to you. I told them a woman would be nothing but trouble, but they insisted after what happened with the man last time."

"_What_?" Ginny demanded. "What man! Who are _they_! You owe me an explanation." She stood to confront the goddess who had her face.

Mórrígan was silent. Ginny waited, and when it became evident that she was not going to answer, Ginny demanded again, "_Well?_"

The goddess's voice was cold. "Enjoy your swim, Virginia."

The next thing Ginny knew, she was hurtling through the air. She hit the frigid water with a painful smack.

*****

Harry sat alone in the common room. Everyone had gone to bed long ago. He was the only one who noticed that Ginny was not with the others. And so he waited for her to come in. He had told her that they would talk later; he wasn't going to let her off that easily. Maybe he should feel guilty, but he didn't. Harry was fighting for what he knew in his heart to be right, and he would do anything, as long as it wasn't amoral or illegal, to bring it about.

The portrait swung open, and Harry kept his eyes glued to the opening. When he saw her, he suddenly felt lightheaded, as though all of the blood rushed from his head. _And to another part of his anatomy_, he thought ruefully, shifting in his chair. She was drenched from head to toe. Her gown clung to every curve like a second skin. _Wet white silk_. He had never even _dreamed_ a sight like this. Somehow, a thought pierced through his arousal. _How the hell did she get this wet_? And then, _she must be freezing_.

And so she was. Ginny's arms were wrapped around her and she shivered uncontrollably. Her lips were bluish. Harry suddenly felt like the worst sort of cad for admiring her body when she was obviously in distress. "Ginny?" he asked, standing. "What happened?

"I f-f-fell in the l-lake," she said through her chattering teeth.

"Oh my god!" he exclaimed. "How?" Without waiting for an answer, he got up and hurried across the common room, swinging his cloak off of his shoulders. He wrapped it securely around her and ran his hands briskly over her arms, hoping the friction might warm her a bit.

"D-do you have your w-wand still?" she asked.

"Oh, right," he said. He pulled out the wand and cast a quick drying charm over her. It helped a bit, but it didn't work entirely; he was distracted and she was _extremely_ wet. She hadn't stopped shivering. He hauled her up against his chest and wrapped his arms around her; he remembered seeing a television show once that said sailors warmed up by sharing body heat whenever one fell overboard. Eventually, her shaking subsided. He pulled back a bit and tipped her chin up so he could see her face.

Ginny knew that she should still be angry with him, but she couldn't seem to catch hold of the fury that had consumed her only a short time ago. He was holding her as though she were the most precious thing on Earth. In spite of herself, she was touched by his obvious concern. He had given her the cloak right off his back, for Merlin's sake.

"Ginny, how did you wind up in the lake?" he asked in a voice laced with worry. When she didn't reply he said, "Please, Gin. You can tell me." One of his thumbs traced a reassuring path along the side of her face and his other arm anchored her securely against his body. "Talk to me," he pleaded quietly.

She leaned her cheek against his chest and sighed deeply, but didn't answer his question. The two of them stood like that for a long time. Finally, Harry said, "You should be in bed. You're freezing."

He laced his fingers through hers and led her over to the entrance to the girls' dorm. Instead of releasing her hand at the foot of the staircase, he walked her up the steps and down the hallway to the door that said "Sixth Years."

Harry folded Ginny into one last embrace, pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and whispered, "I'm glad you wore the orchids tonight."

She looked up at him and gave a weak smile. "Gwen thought they would look nice."

"She was right. We'll talk tomorrow, all right?"

Ginny nodded, and began to shrug out of his cloak. He gently took her hands in his to stop her. "You can give it back in the morning," he said.

"Thanks." Her voice was nothing but a whisper. They both knew how much trouble they'd be in if a prefect caught him on the girls' side.

Harry smiled, brushed a lock of hair out of her face, and walked to the end of the hall. He glanced at her over his shoulder when he reached the staircase, raised his hand in a goodbye wave, and then he was gone.

Ginny pulled his cloak tightly around her. It smelled like him. Then she eased open the door to her room and crept inside, careful to not disturb her friends who were sound asleep.

*****

Harry raced up the stairs to the boys' side and sneaked into his room. He changed into his nightclothes—sweatpants and a Gryffindor T-shirt—but he didn't fall asleep for a long time. Several problems swirled around his head, and all of them centered on Ginny Weasley. How would he get her to make the declaration he so needed to hear? How long would he be able to keep Ron in the dark about their feelings? And how had she managed to fall in the lake?

---------------------------------------------

First of all, thanks a bunch to everyone who reviewed:

On Fanfiction.net--Riona3Squall, Shadow, Mary Potter, Jivanna, Silvermane [Is Mórrígan equivalent to Morgan le Fey? Not really. The Mórrígan is a tri-faceted Celtic goddess of war and fertility; she's scary, cold, and mean and, according to James MacKillop's _Dictionary of Celtic Mythology_, "her persona fuses her bellicosity with an alluring sexuality." She influences battles through magic rather than strength. She is also heavily associated with fate. Ginny has met two of Mórrígan's facets so far, the maiden face and the mother face, but she won't meet the crone face for quite a while yet. Morgan le Fay, on the other hand, was a sort of benevolent fairy godmother figure to King Arthur. She presided over the sisterhood of priestesses on Avalon and, at least in the earliest forms of the Arthurian legend (we're talking pre-Christian), she was not a bad guy at all. Morgan le Fay has been associated with various river goddesses, and I've run across conflicting sources about her link to Mórrígan. For the purposes of my story, they are separate. Whew! Sorry about that little history lesson. Anyhow, it's obvious that you've been reading carefully, and it was a very good observation. Incidentally, all of my knowledge of Celtic mythology comes from a class I took almost four semesters ago, so I'm far from an expert. I'm pretty much learning this as I go along. If I ever make any drastic and terrible mistakes, you all should feel free to say so in a review or email because if nobody corrects me, how will I learn?], AgiVega, Silvestria, and Spitfyre [The ring didn't _cause_ the wacky common room magic (as my beta and I have taken to calling it), but the two are definitely related in some way. Well spotted! There's a lot more to the ring than Ginny has yet discovered. Mórrígan has a _very_ good reason for telling her to never take it off.]

I've left a few clues (some more obvious than others but none of them blatant) that hint at the answer to the mystery between Ginny and Mórrígan. From your reviews, I gather that several of you have picked up on some of them. I'm so glad to have such careful readers! The chapter after next, many (but not all) of the questions will be answered. Stay tuned for the next chapter, in which Mórrígan does not appear, Ginny gets angry, we get an update on Mad Eye Moody's somewhat precarious situation, Harry makes a declaration, Mike drinks some more butterbeer, and a few people get kissed, but not necessarily in that order. It'll be great. I hope you liked this latest installment. Please don't forget to let me know what you think. Never underestimate the motivational power of a review. The more you write to me, the faster I write for you.

I've also been thinking that, since ffn doesn't do author alert anymore unless you pay for the support services, maybe I would start a yahoo group so members could get email notification when a new chapter goes up and, if you like, participate in discussion about the story. I'd be happy to do it if there's any interest. And now, this ridiculously long postscript comes to an end. Have a great week, everyone. I can't wait to read your reviews.

--Irina


	6. The Protector

Title: The Rebirth—Chapter 5

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Fanfic authors are paid in reviews, my friends, not in cash. Oh, and there's a modified Oscar Wilde quote in here somewhere.  


Author's Notes: Thanks to Barb for plugging my fic on HP_FanFiction and her mailing list, HP_Psych. Thanks to Danette for being the best beta reader a girl could want and for doing her own share of plugging. She gets co-author credit for this chapter, because she wrote most of the material starring the Silvermoon twins, and did it so much better than I ever could have. Thanks to Dri for looking up info _Quidditch Through the Ages_ because I don't own a copy. Thanks to Gokuh4060 for loaning me his vibes. He may be assured that I made good use of them. Thanks also to the people who sent me positive thoughts when I took the GRE. I'm much obliged.

****

Chapter 5

The Protector

__

November 1, 1997

Ginny regained consciousness by degrees. Her brain woke up first, the layers of sleep peeling away as awareness gradually invested her thoughts. Next, Ginny's body began to lose the heaviness of slumber. Her arms and legs regained mobility, and as soon as she had the energy to do so she yawned, the air rushing into her lungs and drawing her even closer to the land of the living. Ginny arched her back and tensed her arm and leg muscles in a long, feline stretch. Finally, she opened her eyes. 

The first thing she noticed was that the charm had worn off of her hair; it was back to its usual length. The next thing she saw was that she was wrapped in a cloak that was way too long to be hers. _Harry_. Ginny pulled her pillow over her head and groaned. What bad luck that he would wait up for her the one night she got pulled into the Otherworld. And now she would have some serious explaining to do. Plus, her dress robes were probably ruined. Maybe she could find some kind of charm to fix them up. No doubt Gwen knew one for restoring silk that had gotten wet.

Ginny squirmed out of the cloak, which had tangled with her pajamas while she slept, and stuffed it under her pillow. She would return it to him later, when there was no chance her friends would see it and ask questions. When she was satisfied that the incriminating article of clothing was well and truly hidden, Ginny opened the curtains on her bed and looked around the room. Ria was nowhere in sight, and her towel was gone off of the rack next to the door. She was probably in the shower. On their respective beds, Gwen and Shannon scribbled in notebooks. "'Morning," Ginny said, still a bit drowsy.

Gwen smiled. "Thanks for joining us this morning, Sleeping Beauty."

"What are you doing?" Ginny asked.

"We're recording every minute of last night so we don't forget a single thing," Gwen replied, a blissful look on her face. "I think I'll marry a Ravenclaw. That way, it won't matter if I'm hopeless at magic. He'll be able to do everything."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "You know, Gwen, you could just study once in a while."

"Now where would be the fun in that?" Shannon asked without looking up from her journal.

"Will you two be long? I promised Mike Fletcher I'd meet him at two, so we'll want to get to Hogsmeade soon." Ginny swung her feet to the floor and retrieved her towel from the rack. Her friends were engrossed in their writing and didn't reply. "Hey!" she ordered. "Hurry up and finish! We have to leave."

Gwen blew the ink dry on her latest page and returned the journal to her trunk. Shannon scribbled quickly, rushing through the last few sentences. Ginny was rummaging around in her trunk in a search for shampoo when Shannon said, "You know, Gin, you should keep a diary. They're good for preserving memories."

"Yes, I hear they're very good at that," Ginny answered dryly. She shrugged then, and reached for the doorknob. "I tried it once but it didn't take. I'll see you both in the common room in half an hour, got it?"

The two girls nodded dutifully, and Ginny swung the towel over her shoulder and headed for the showers.

*****

Gwen and Shannon weren't even dressed yet when Ginny returned from the bathroom, and although Ria's towel had been returned to the rack, Ria herself was still nowhere to be seen. "I'll wait for you two downstairs," Ginny told them. "Everyone else is gone. We're not going to have much shopping time."

The two girls murmured a response, but they weren't about to rush their makeup application. Ginny rolled her eyes in exasperation as she walked down the stairs. Just a few days ago they had been beside themselves with excitement about this shopping trip, but now they were wasting time primping in case they ran into their Ravenclaws, neither of whom Ginny thought was anything especially memorable.

She opened the door to the common room and swore under her breath. Not everyone had left yet, it would seem. Was she really that surprised, though, after he waited up for her last night? "Good morning, Harry," Ginny said.

Even though his back was to her, Harry wasn't caught off guard by her arrival. He had felt her nearness as she descended the stairs. "'Morning, Ginny." He turned to look at her. "Aren't you going to Hogsmeade?"

"I'm planning on it, but Gwen and Shannon are slow. And Ria is MIA."

"I think she got wind of the little excursion you three had planned. You know how she is with shopping."

"We were going to shop for things _for her_," Ginny pointed out.

Harry shrugged. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, thanks."

The pair faced each other across the room in awkward silence. "Ginny—" Harry began, but he was cut off by Gwen and Shannon, who descended the steps in a flurry.

"Hurry up, Gin! We're wasting valuable shopping time!" Gwen exclaimed as they hurried past.

Ginny followed them, but as she walked by Harry he caught her arm. "Ginny, wait." He gave her friends an apprehensive glance, and then leaned down and said, quietly so they wouldn't overhear, "Don't go to the Three Broomsticks with Fletcher today."

"Why not?" Ginny looked at him suspiciously.

His eyes pleaded with her. "Go with me instead."

For a moment, Ginny was utterly stupefied. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, but then it occurred to her that she probably looked like a fish and that she'd better think of something intelligent to say. "No." Intelligent? Can someone be intelligent and monosyllabic at the same time?

Harry blinked. "No? Just…no?"

"I mean, I can't." This was going badly. "I promised I'd meet him." She glanced over her shoulder at her friends, who both tried very hard to look like they weren't eavesdropping. "I can't just break a promise. And even if I could, I wouldn't want to." She cursed herself as soon as the words were out of her mouth. Her sharp tone had hurt him; she could see it in the sudden vulnerability in his face, feel it in her soul just as surely as if the emotion were hers. "Harry, I didn't mean—"

His eyes were shuttered as he shook his head to cut her off. "I know," he said. "Just be careful, all right?"

"I'm meeting Mike, not Voldemort. I've known him since I was two." She knew she was treading on dangerous ground, but at the moment she didn't care. Who did he think he was, really? His request had been beyond presumptuous, and he was lucky that she hadn't _really_ given him a piece of her mind for it.

Harry stared down at her, his face carefully expressionless, but beneath the mask his emotions boiled dangerously close to the surface. He clamped down with an iron control he didn't know he possessed, but Harry knew he hadn't fooled her a bit. He nearly suffocated with the bizarre protectiveness that only she inspired, and he let it pour over her, let her feel the full extent of his paralyzing frustration, tangible in its intensity. Even though he appeared perfectly in control on the surface, Harry wanted to put his fist through a wall. In this state, his calmness was infinitely more alarming than his anger would've been; the disparity between what Ginny saw and what she felt was giving her a case of vertigo.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" Ginny whispered. Harry didn't answer; his face remained blank, but she was engulfed in the turbulence of his soul. She tried to pull away, but he maintained a firm grip on her upper arm.

"Ginny, is everything okay?" Gwen asked.

"It's fine, Gwen," Ginny answered, her eyes locked on Harry's. 

__

Let go of me, Ginny ordered through their link. No response. _Harry, now!_ Still, he didn't reply. She wrenched her arm from his grasp and backed up a step, placing herself out of his reach. He took a step closer to her, and she backed up again.

She felt the change in him immediately. He looked down at the hand that had held her arm and then back at her. She felt his dismay and confusion; he realized that he had lost control, that he had hurt her. The wildness of his feelings frightened him. Ginny wanted to reach out to him, to tell him that everything would be all right, but she didn't want to get within his reach in case he grabbed her again. She was surrounded by Harry, mentally and emotionally, and neither one knew how it was happening. She felt the piece of him that she carried within her leaking out into other parts of her being, and she barely knew anymore where he ended and she began. Though unsettling, the mental connection established that morning four weeks ago had seemed fairly innocuous. But it had snowballed into something that Ginny knew neither one of them was equipped to handle.

Harry's voice was measured and even when told her, "I want to talk to you later." To Gwen and Shannon, who had abandoned all pretenses and were now openly listening in, he seemed perfectly casual. Ginny knew that he wouldn't take no for an answer. _Will you be able to get away?_ He sent the thought through their link.

She nodded. _I will after we get back from Hogsmeade_.

"Good," he said out loud. There was another awkward pause. 

"Harry—" she began.

"Ginny, come _on_!" Shannon was impatient.

"Right. I have to go," Ginny told Harry.

He nodded. Hell if he was going to wish her a nice time with Fletcher. They looked at each other for another uneasy moment, and then she turned and followed her friends out of the portrait hole.

Harry didn't know how long he stood alone in the common room, looking blankly at the door through which she left. He couldn't understand what was happening to him, but whatever it was, it had begun on that morning by the fire. He had been slowly realizing his feelings for Ginny since the day she had picked him up at the Dursleys', but whatever had happened last month had released something that Harry was unable to control. The violent urge to defend Ginny at all costs—from Mike Fletcher's teasing, from Ernie MacMillian's desertion, from…he didn't even know what anymore. All he knew was that a few minutes ago he had hurt her because he had been unable to contain his instincts.

Harry couldn't explain what had changed or how it had happened, but he decided that, when Ginny returned from Hogsmeade, the two of them would have to tell Dumbledore everything. He had resolved after Cedric's death to never keep anything to himself that might have something to do with Voldemort or dark magic. Dumbledore needed all the information he could get if he was going to lead the fight against the Death Eaters. But, for now, Harry needed some exercise to clear his head. He turned on his heel and ran up to his room to retrieve his Firebolt.

*****

Outside, the air was cold and crisp. It stung Harry's cheeks as he strode to the Quidditch pitch, his broom slung over his shoulder. Nothing took his mind off of his problems like flying. The promise of the freedom of soaring high above the world, away from Voldemort and Ginny and Mike Fletcher, made Harry quicken his pace. As he came around the corner of the broom shed he collided with Ria, who held her Nimbus in one hand and a Quaffle in the other. She shrieked in surprise, and then looked slightly embarrassed.

"Aren't you going to Hogsmeade today?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I didn't feel like it. I suppose you're hiding from the fashion police?"

She grimaced. "Are they gone yet?"

He nodded and she sighed in relief. "Thank the gods. I told them I didn't want to go, but Gwen can be very persistent."

"So you hid." 

She nodded, and Harry gave her a half-hearted smile. "Not very Gryffindorian of you, Ria."

"I notice _you_ didn't join them."

"Not a chance." He managed a weak laugh.

Ria gave Harry an appraising look. Something was bothering him; it was obvious. And, being Harry, he was going to try to keep it all inside. "Do you want to play a little one on one?" she asked. Harry hesitated, and she threw the ball, hitting him squarely in the chest. He only just managed to catch hold of it before it fell to the ground. "Come on," Ria said. "Let's see if the son of James Potter, legendary Chaser, can handle a Quaffle. Unless you're scared…."

He looked at the ball in his hands, then up at the sky, and back at Ria. "You're on." And the two of them kicked off the ground.

Harry quickly learned that flying as a Chaser was nothing like flying as a Seeker. Being a Chaser was much more physical, and required strength and balance rather than strong eyesight and agility. He swooped towards the goal, but had to dodge Ria, who came straight at him. When he grabbed his broomstick to pull up, he lost his hold on the Quaffle. She caught it and scored easily.

Ria took the Quaffle back out to the center of the field, and faced the goal posts. She took a deep breath and then threw her broom forward, barreling down the pitch. Harry positioned himself directly in front of her, and she pulled her broom up. He copied her movement, and watched in amazement as she hurled the Quaffle over his head as hard as she could, made an abrupt dive, flew beneath him, and caught the ball before it hit the ground. She soared to the goal with a neat twist of her broom and easily scored again. Ria turned to face Harry. "Don't be afraid to block me!" she said, taking up her position at center field again. "You can't be nervous about getting hit."

"I'm not used to this," he called.

Ria scored three more goals in quick succession. "You play like a girl!" she exclaimed with glee. "Try again. Watch for the feint. You have to anticipate my moves."

This time, when she faked right, Harry hurled himself to the left. Her sudden swerve to avoid a collision loosened her grip on the ball, and he plucked it right out of her hands. With a whoop of triumph, Harry threw the Quaffle through the goal.

"Much better! You're getting the hang of it." Ria gave him a grin of approval. Both players were flushed and breathing hard. The brisk wind that blew fifty feet off the ground stung their cheeks and ruffled their hair. Ria wished that she had remembered her scarf.

"Can we take a break?" Harry asked. "It's cold up here."

They landed in the middle of the pitch, and Harry used his wand to conjure two of Hermione's special bluebell fires. He and Ria each cupped one in their hands, trying to warm up a bit. For a moment they just stood and tried to catch their breath.

"So, did you have fun at the ball last night?" Ria asked in an attempt to make conversation. "I didn't get to see you much after dinner was over."

Harry gave a derisive snort. "Did you hear about what happened to Ginny?" he asked by way of answer.

She frowned in concern. "Ginny? Is she all right?" Ria hadn't seen Ginny after the ball, and because she had avoided her friends that morning she hadn't heard any news about the night before.

"MacMillian abandoned her. He just…_left_. With Hannah Abbott."

"And Ginny was upset?" Ria asked incredulously. Ginny hadn't even wanted a partner in the first place. Why would she care about Ernie leaving with someone else? Especially because at dinner Ginny had seemed more annoyed with him than anything.

"That's not the point," Harry asserted. He was on a roll. "The fact is, MacMillian invited her to the ball and then deserted her. And then she was almost blasted by Malfoy. _And_ she wound up having to dance with Mike Fletcher."

"A fate worse than death, I'm sure."

Ria's dry tone wasn't lost on Harry. "It's not funny," he said. "They're at the Three Broomsticks right now, doing God knows what."

"At the Three Broomsticks?" Ria couldn't hide the smile tugging at her mouth. "_That_ should be a show. There's nothing I hate more than when people meet for butterbeer and then do God knows what. Right out in public, too."

"Stop teasing me!" Harry insisted. "It's not funny."

Ria tilted her head to the side. "You know what I think is funny?" she asked. "That I asked whether _you_ had fun at the ball and all you've talked about is Ginny. Now," she tapped her finger on her lower lip in thought. "What I would like to know is why Ginny has anything to do with whether or not you had fun?"

Rather than answering her question, Harry fisted his hand to extinguish the blue flame, threw the Quaffle at her, and kicked off the ground. She caught it deftly and followed him into the sky.

She faced him at center field, and they sped at each other. _Don't be afraid to get hit. Don't be afraid to get hit_, Harry repeated to himself. They rushed closer, playing a game of chicken on broomsticks, fifty feet in the air. _She's not going to pull up_, Harry realized frantically. Just before they collided, Ria smoothly flipped her broom one hundred and eighty degrees and, hanging upside-down, passed directly under him. Harry whirled his broom in surprise and watched her right herself and shoot the Quaffle through the goal without even slowing down.

"A modified Sloth Grip Roll," Ria called as she tossed him the Quaffle. "You're not a Bludger so I had to improvise a bit. Want to play best of three?"

Half an hour later, Ria led by eighty points. Although she still outmaneuvered Harry with little trouble, he was definitely better than when they had begun. He had even managed to score three goals, and after each one he carried on as though he had single-handedly won the house cup. Harry was having the time of his life, learning the position that his father had held. It gave him an entirely different perspective on the game.

When Ria scored her twelfth goal, Harry called, "Do you want to take another break?"

She grinned and tossed the Quaffle to him. "I'll race you to the ground!"

Now Harry was in his element. With a laughing shout, he threw his broom forward and hurled himself towards the earth as though he was diving for the Snitch. Ria never stood a chance. They tumbled onto the grass, and once again he conjured a few bluebell flames for them to hold. Ria cupped the fire in silence, determined that he should be the one to start the conversation this time.

Harry watched her watch him. He thought again about Mike Fletcher, and then realized that he was being presented with a golden opportunity. He was alone with Ginny's best friend. Screwing up his courage, Harry asked, "Um, Ria? You know Ginny and Mike?"

She looked at him as though he was crazy. "Yes, Harry. I know Ginny and Mike," she answered slowly.

"No, that's not what I meant." He paused to carefully phrase his question. "Do think there's anything between them that I should know about?"

Ah. Now she was getting somewhere. "I don't think there's anything about Ginny or Mike that you _should_ know about," Ria answered. "Since, you know, you're not their parents. If they don't inform you of something then it's because it's none of your business."

"Can't you just tell me, Ria?" Harry asked, not meeting her eyes. "It's important."

She looked at him for a moment without speaking. Then, "Why do you want to know?"

Harry didn't answer. Ria sized him up while she considered what she wanted to say next. He stood, shoulders straight, his hands cupped around the blue fire. His head was turned slightly away from her, presenting her with a three-quarters profile, and, although his chin was up, his eyes were locked on the ground. She could tell that he was having a hard time asking her these questions. "Harry," Ria said gently. "Do you…care…for Ginny?"

He didn't move or speak for a long moment. Then, slowly, he turned his eyes to hers and nodded. "Then you should tell her," Ria said.

"It's easier said than done," Harry replied. He sounded lost, unsure of how to proceed when his very happiness rested with someone who might not return his feelings.

"That might be true, but you still have to do it." Ria's tone was matter-of-fact, but her eyes reflected her sympathy for his situation.

"What if she says that she doesn't feel the same way?"

"So what if she does? That doesn't mean you can just sit on something like this."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck in agitation. He said under his breath, "There has to be some way to steal her back from Fletcher." 

"I hope I didn't hear that correctly," Ria said. She took a step closer and looked up into his eyes to reinforce her point. "Let me give you some advice, Harry, because Ginny is my friend and I want her to be happy. She is not an object to steal. She's a person who makes her own decisions, and if you go into this with any other attitude you're going to get exactly nowhere. Mike isn't your enemy. You both care about Ginny in different ways and you both want the best for her. Thinking of it any other way is disrespectful to her and to the relationship you seem to want."

Harry was quiet for a moment, absorbing her words. Finally, he nodded. "I know. You're right. Of course you're right."

They were silent for another moment. Ria looked around the pitch. Her breath formed white clouds of steam in the chilly air. "Do you want to go inside?" she asked.

Harry's mouth curved into a smile as he shook his head. He picked the Quaffle up from the ground and straddled his broom. "Best out of five?" he asked.

Ria grinned. "You don't have a prayer, Potter." For the third time that afternoon they kicked up into the sky.

*****

Ginny stood in front of the mirror and held the dress up in front of her. It was deep green velvet, with long sleeves and a high neck. The color was perfect, the cut was perfect, the dress was, without a doubt, one of the most beautiful she had ever seen. A saleswitch came up behind her and met Ginny's eyes in the mirror. "The color is divine with your hair, miss. That piece is from our winter line. It's a steal at three hundred Galleons. May I wrap it up for you?"

"No thanks," Ginny answered. "I'm just looking."

The witch moved on to another customer and Ginny turned back to her reflection. The dress was wonderful, but there was no way she could ever afford any clothes from this shop. Gladrags was the most expensive boutique in Hogsmeade. Besides their rather eclectic selection of socks, they carried the most up-to-date styles in wizard wear. 

The bell on the shop door jangled, and Ginny glanced over to see who was coming in. It was Hermione. She walked over to Ginny with a huge smile on her face and said, "That color is fantastic on you! Are you going to buy it?"

"I wish," Ginny answered. "I can't afford anything in this place. What are you doing here?"

"Ron is in Zonko's. I saw you through the window and told him I'd come say hello while he stocked up on dungbombs. What are _you_ doing here if you don't have enough money for the clothes?"

Ginny motioned with her head to the other side of the store. Shannon had tried on extremely short robes and was scrutinizing her reflection in the mirror outside of the fitting room. The price tag that dangled from the hem read, "Scandalously Expensive."

"It's Shannon's favorite shop," Ginny told Hermione.

"Shannon has enough pocket money to buy robes at _Gladrags_?" Hermione asked in disbelief.

"Are you kidding?" Ginny answered. "The Cannons are an old pureblood wizarding family. They're as high in the instep as they come, and have at least as much money as the Malfoys."

Hermione's eyes narrowed and she gave Shannon an apprising look. "What?" Ginny asked.

"Well," Hermione said, "The majority of Dark Wizards who were sent to Azkaban during You-Know-Who's first rise to power were purebloods, weren't they? We really should keep an eye on people like that now that You-Know-Who has returned. Especially ones from old families. You can never be too careful."

Ginny put the green dress back on the rack and said tightly, "You know, Hermione, I would think that your obsession with crusades would have taught you not to make judgements about people based on their backgrounds."

Hermione was momentarily confused, and then realization spread across her face. "Oh, Gin! I didn't mean you."

"No?" Ginny asked. "I'm a pureblood from a family as old as anybody's. So is your boyfriend, and so is Harry. Who were you talking about, exactly, if not us? Shannon, who's one of my best friends? Neville Longbottom? Or maybe Dumbledore? Who, Hermione?" The other girl didn't answer. Ginny shook her head. "Look, I understand that these are scary times for muggle borns because of Voldemort. But that doesn't mean that all, or even most, purebloods are Death Eaters."

"I didn't mean it that way."

"Yes, you did," Ginny said. "And we both know it. Just…try not to judge all of us for the actions of a few, okay?"

Hermione was silent. It wasn't often that she was ashamed, but she was now. She prided herself on being open minded. She was a dedicated social crusader, after all--the founder and President of S.P.E.W. It would seem that even people who worked for justice and equality could have prejudices of their own. It was something Hermione knew she would have to consciously struggle to overcome. "I'm sorry, Ginny," she whispered.

"I know," Ginny said. She looked at her watch, and then over to Shannon and Gwen, who were debating the merits of a skirt made entirely of opaque orange bubbles. "Girls," she called. "I have to go."

Shannon gave a distracted wave, but Gwen looked up long enough to say, "Meet up with us when you're done?"

"Maybe," Ginny answered. "If I don't, then I'll just see you two back at Gryffindor."

"I should go too," Hermione said. "Ron was only running into Zonko's for a minute."

"Nice way to stick it right in your mouth, Granger," said a voice from off to the side as Hermione and Ginny walked to the front of the store.

"What are you talking about?" Hermione turned and eyed the Gladrags customers, trying to find the speaker.

"Your foot," came the response as one of the Silvermoon twins walked out from behind a shoe display. From her tone of voice Ginny was willing to bet it was Delia, "You know the old open mouth insert foot routine?" A sneer marred the girl's otherwise pretty features.

"Were you eavesdropping?" Ginny asked, somehow managing to sound threatening and mild at the same time. "Not very polite of you, is it?"

"So?" she said. "I can do whatever I want. It _is_ a free country." Delia raked Hermione with an insolent look. "Have a nice day," she said, and walked out of the shop, her shopping bag held so that no one could miss seeing the store name on the side.

"Bitch," Ginny muttered under her breath. "Ignore her, Hermione."

"It's true, you know," said Dana, poking her head out from behind one of the racks. "She really is. Sometimes I think one of us was switched at birth. Then I remember that we're identical. It kind of kills the theory." She shrugged carelessly.

Hermione remembered Dana from the night before. "Are you sure you were sorted into the right house?" she asked. "No offense, but you don't really seem like the Slytherin in the family."

"Was I sorted into the right house?" Dana repeated with a slight smile. "I have no idea. Maybe Delia and I managed to confuse the hat."

Ginny looked at her watch again. "It's nice to see you again, Dana, but I have to run. I'm meeting someone at the Three Broomsticks."

Dana checked her own watch. "So am I, in a little while," she said. "Maybe I'll see you there?"

Ginny smiled at the younger girl. "I hope so," she answered, and waved goodbye as she and Hermione left the shop.

Dana watched the girls leave, and then went over to the rack Ginny had looked at before Hermione arrived. After a few moments of searching she found what she was looking for—a dress of deep green velvet with a high neckline. Dana held it up and looked at her reflection. She said under her breath, "Well you have some fine taste at least."

The saleswitch hurried to her side. "It's a beautiful choice, miss, and with your coloring it'll be perfect. Shall I fetch one of the seamstresses to adjust it for you?"

Looking the dress up and down, Dana said in a bored drawl borrowed from many confrontations with Draco Malfoy, "No, I can get someone else to do that for me. Just wrap it up so I can pay for it and get out of here."

The witch took the dress and bustled over to the counter. _Well what do you know_? Dana thought, amazed at the woman's promptness. _Malfoy has at least something right: act snobbish and haughty and they treat you like royalty. Not that I plan to do this often._

*****

Ginny jogged up the street and into the Three Broomsticks. She raced in the door, her hair flying around her head in a red-gold halo. Her cheeks were flushed, both from running and the cold, and her robes blew about her body until she closed the door and shut out the November wind. Ginny spotted Mike carrying two drinks to a table near the fireplace, and she hurried across the room to join him.

"Sorry I'm late," she said as she slid into the chair across from him.

"Are you late?" he asked. "I forgot my watch."

"In that case, I'm right on time. You're early."

"I can live with that." He slid one of the mugs of hot, frothy butterbeer across the table to her.

Ginny took a sip of her drink and licked the foam off of her upper lip. "There's nothing better than warm butterbeer on a day like today," she told Mike.

He raised his mug in salute and took a drink of his own. They chatted about random things: Potions class, Quidditch, the NEWTS. Ginny wanted very badly to know about Mundungus, but Mike said at the Burrow that his father wasn't allowed to owl, even to let his son know that he was all right. It was no good asking a question that Mike couldn't answer.

As she and Mike talked, Ginny noticed Dana enter the pub and join Seamus Finnigan. The two of them seemed engrossed in a serious conversation, so Ginny decided to wait before going over to say a proper hello.

"So, where is it?" Ginny asked as she drained the last of her butterbeer.

"Where's what?" Mike asked, genuinely confused.

Ginny kicked him under the table. "The gift," she said. "You promised it would be good."

Mike motioned to her mug. "You just drank it, Gin."

"The butterbeer? I'm not impressed."

"When you came in you said there was nothing better."

"But still!" she protested. "You really broke the bank on this one didn't you, Mike?"

He rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "I dance with her once and she's already demanding expensive presents!" he exclaimed in woe. Then he laughed and kicked her back.

"Cheap."

"Greedy."

Ginny stuck out her tongue. "Oh," Mike said. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize that we're five years old today."

"Be nice to me," Ginny ordered. "It's the day after my birthday."

"Greedy as a Slytherin." Mike shook his head in mock disappointment.

"Not all Slytherins are greedy," Ginny protested. "Some of them are nice."

"Yeah, right," Mike answered, and kicked her again for good measure. She retaliated, and the next several minutes were devoted to a viscous under-the-table skirmish that ended in a draw, although both had landed some very good shots.

"I'll prove it," Ginny said when she had stopped laughing enough that she could talk. "If I can find a nice Slytherin, you have to buy me another butterbeer."

"What if you can't?" Mike asked. "What do I get?"

"If I can't, then you win the privilege of buying me another butterbeer."

The two fell into another round of kicking. "That sounds fair enough," Mike finally gasped through his laughter.

Ginny stood and said, "I'll be right back." She headed over to Seamus and Dana's table at the other end of the pub.

*****

Dana slowly spun her drink. "Sometimes I wonder myself how I ended up in Slytherin," she said in answer to Seamus's question. "I spend most of my free time either in the library or talking to the fourth year Gryffindors. I've had more than one ask me what I told the Sorting Hat to have it place me where it did." She sighed and continued, "My housemates spend most of their time criticizing me and you were right. Last night isn't the first time Malfoy and I have almost come to blows."

Seamus reached over and stopped the spinning mug by putting his hand over hers, "Don't worry about it. Personally, I think that he's just jealous because you're too good to even give him the time of day. He's too stuck on his high horse to admit that you have worth as a witch. I know I'm glad I met you."

"You really know how to make a girl feel better, don't you," Dana said.

"Ummm, no." Seamus gave her a sly grin. "How do I make a girl feel better?"

Dana slid her empty mug across the table with a smile. "By buying the drinks."

"Sure," said Seamus with an answering laugh. "I think a smile from you is probably worth the price of a couple of butterbeers."

The two of them stopped their conversation as Ginny approached the table. "I'm sorry to interrupt," she said, winking at Dana. "But I have an important favor to ask."

"Anything for a fellow Chaser," Seamus said. "What can we do for you?"

"Come sit with Mike and me. I need you to settle a bet."

The pair followed Ginny to the table next to the fireplace and took seats next to each other, putting Ginny in the chair to Mike's right. "Dana, this is Mike Fletcher, sixth year Ravenclaw. Mike, Dana Silvermoon. Fourth year Slytherin."

Mike leaned over and whispered in Ginny's ear, "This is a bet you can't win, my friend. Have you met this girl's sister?"

"Yes I have, and they're as alike as Ron and Malfoy," Ginny whispered back. "Either way I get a butterbeer out of it, so give her a chance."

"Ravenclaw huh?" Dana asked Mike. "I'm going to guess you know my beloved twin."

"That's right," Seamus said. "Your twin's in Ravenclaw, isn't she! When are you going to introduce me?"

"When hell freezes over, if I have any say in it," Dana muttered under her breath.

Mike watched the exchange with interest and then talked to Dana for a mere ten minutes before turning to Ginny and saying, "I'll get you that drink now. Coming, Finnigan?"

As she watched them leave Dana turned to Ginny. "What was that all about?" she asked, puzzled. "I'm all for settling bets but now I'm just confused."

Ginny elected not to explain. Instead, she said, "I'm sorry if I interrupted anything."

Dana shook her head. "Don't worry about it. He was just asking why I was sorted into Slytherin."

"It seems to be the question of the day," Ginny observed.

"I suppose so. Did you know that I'm adopted?"

"No, I didn't." Ginny wondered where this conversation was headed.

"Delia and I were adopted by the Silvermoons when we were babies. They're very rich and very posh, and they spent most of their time at charity benefits and playing tennis. The two of us were stuck with nannies and governesses, and only ever got to see our parents when they remembered that they had two children living upstairs."

Ginny glanced over at the bar and tried to catch Mike's eye, but he and Seamus were in a long line for drinks and weren't coming back to the table anytime soon.

"I just don't feel like my parents ever really notice me," Dana continued, not noticing Ginny's discomfort. "I mean, they always seem to notice when Delia does something and they're always showering her with complements and praises but the only time they ever really seem to remember I'm around is when they want to show off their two 'perfect daughters.'" The last phrase was laced with heavy sarcasm. "I'd be willing to do just about anything to get them to notice me for me not as an extension of Delia, you know?"

"How did wizarding children wind up being adopted by muggles?" Ginny asked, because she couldn't think of anything else to say. "There are controls to prevent that kind of thing."

"I guess our birth parents must have been muggles too," Dana answered. She traced her finger around the carvings on the edge of the table. "Delia doesn't think so, but it's the only explanation that makes sense." As a rule Dana never talked about her parents, biological or adopted. But there was just something about Ginny Weasley that made the whole story come tumbling out. The Gryffindor was a good listener, and she nodded and made sympathetic noises in all the right places of the tale. "I just…I think that's why I was put in Slytherin. The willingness to do anything to make them really _see_ me, you know? Cunning and ambition and all that."

Ginny would have felt bad for the girl, but she got the impression that Dana would sooner cut out her tongue than accept pity from anyone. It was obvious, however, that the Slytherin had no one to talk to. Otherwise, she wouldn't be baring her soul to a near stranger in the middle of a pub. Ginny said, "Dana, I can't understand how any rational person could compare you and Delia and find you lacking."

Dana laughed but there was no humor in the sound. "Should I quote my parents?" She affected a rather high and snotty voice. "Cordelia is such a perfect child. We've never had any problems with her and she is just so bright and I'm certain that we will hear great things about her when she grows up." Now Dana took on a deeper voice, "What about the other girl? Diana, Deena what was it again?" And back to the first voice, "Oh, Dana. She's very pretty isn't she?"

Dana returned to her normal voice. "Sometimes I think all they want me to be is an ornament." She closed her gray eyes briefly and when she opened them again their expression was shuttered. "Look, forget I said anything, okay? I don't know why I'm bothering you with my life story and…" she paused, "don't tell Seamus please?"

"Don't tell Seamus what?" he asked as he and Mike returned to the table laden with mugs.

Ginny spoke quickly to cover for Dana. "Girl stuff, nothing you need to know."

"Right," he said, sitting down and putting a butterbeer in front of Dana. Dana gave him a bright smile but he could tell that something was bothering her. Maybe he'd get it out of her later, but for now he just wanted to enjoy himself.

Dana soon forgot her embarrassment over spilling her secrets. Ginny and Mike Fletcher were in rare form that afternoon. They kept Seamus and Dana in stitches with their bizarre name-calling and funny stories about childhood misadventures. 

After another hour and a half, Mike caught Ginny's wrist and looked at her watch. "I should go," he said. "I have a lot of studying to do."

"I'll walk back to Hogwarts with you," Ginny told him. She didn't want to intrude on Dana and Seamus's date any more than she had already, and she didn't particularly want to rejoin Gwen and Shannon, who were trying on clothes that she couldn't even dream of affording.

"What?" he asked. "To study? I didn't realize Gryffindors knew how."

"I know you didn't just say what I think you said." Ginny struggled to smother her laughter. After all, house pride was at stake.

"Come on now, Gin. Just because Hermione Granger _accidentally_ got sorted into your house doesn't make you all smart by association."

She kicked him under the table. "OW!" Seamus exclaimed. "What was that for?"

Dana laughed uproariously. "Ginny, I think you missed."

"Your pain is my good fortune, Finnigan," Mike said, standing quickly and darting several paces from Ginny's seat. "Are you coming or not?" he asked her. "Because I'm leaving now."

"Well don't go without me." She stood and shrugged into her cloak. "Sorry about the leg, Seamus. Dana, I'll see you around, all right?" She waved at them and followed Mike out the door.

"Bye, Ginny," Dana called after her. Then, she turned to Seamus. "Are you okay?" she asked, still giggling slightly. "Let me see." She reached for his shin at the same time he did and blushed when their hands collided.

*****

Ginny and Mike walked back to Hogwarts at a brisk pace. The weather was freezing, and they wanted to get back into the warm castle as soon as possible. Mike sped up his pace, causing Ginny to lengthen her stride as well. In response, Mike walked even faster. Ginny accelerated to keep up. By the time they reached the castle door they were both at a dead sprint, trying to elbow one another off of the path. The pair flew into the entrance hall, and stood together, flushed and laughing, breathing hard from their run. Ginny rubbed her hands together to warm them, and then pressed her palms to her cheeks. The skin on her face was cold and smooth. Mike grinned down at her. "I win."

"Oh?" she said innocently. "I didn't realize we were racing."

"You lie like a rug."

She guffawed. "I what? Where did that come from?"

Ginny looked up at him, her eyes shining with tears of laughter. Suddenly, Mike leaned down and pecked her on the lips. It was a quick kiss, over almost before it had begun. The giggle died in her throat.

"So, I'll see you later?" Mike asked. He turned and started towards the hall that led to Ravenclaw House.

"Mike," Ginny said, her voice strangled. "What was that?"

He stopped and turned around. "Pardon? What was what?"

"That. Are you just going to walk away without explaining?"

He paused for a moment. "It's called a kiss, Ginny; I'm surprised you didn't know. Maybe Gryffindors _should_ study more."

"Why?"

He shot her a lopsided smile. "Do I need a reason?"

"Yes."

He shrugged. "Just because."

"Last night you couldn't talk enough about how the sun rises and sets on Hannah Abbott," Ginny pointed out.

"Don't take everything so seriously," he said. "I wanted to kiss you, so I did."

"In that case, we need to work on your impulse control."

"If you say so."

"Just…give me a little warning next time, all right?" she asked.

"Sure," he answered. "If there's ever a next time, I'll send you a memo ten business days ahead of schedule."

"Thanks." Ginny smiled in spite of herself. "Study hard and all that."

"See you later, Gin." Mike shot her one last grin, and then started down the hallway. Ginny watched him for a moment, and then took the steps to Gryffindor tower two at a time.

*****

Ginny peeked around the portrait of the fat lady. The common room was deserted. She climbed through the hole and pulled the painting closed behind her. Ginny had one and only one mission at the moment: to avoid Harry. She knew that he was planning to ask her all kinds of questions about how she fell in the lake, among other things, and she didn't want to talk about it. Ginny grabbed her bookbag from the coffee table where she'd left it, and climbed the stairs to her dorm room. She could keep away from Harry by hiding in there for the rest of the day. She'd get some homework done, at any rate.

Ginny sat on her bed and tried to think up a plan of action, in case Harry managed to corner her into a meeting. How could she explain falling in the lake? She would have to be dense not to realize that the ring, the goddess, and the telepathic link were all connected in some strange way, and that meant that she couldn't discuss any part of the situation without earning Mórrígan's severe displeasure.

Ginny reached into her bag to pull out a quill and her hand closed around a piece of scrap parchment. She pulled it out, and saw that it was a folded note.

__

Astronomy Tower. Eight o'clock. –H.

Ginny sighed. When he returned and saw that her bookbag was gone, he'd know that she'd found the note. And if she sneaked down to the common room to put the bag back on the table, he might see her and then she'd still have no way to get out of this meeting in the Astronomy Tower. _The_ _Astronomy Tower_! How wretchedly unoriginal of him. _Really, the things that go on in that classroom are quite appalling, _she thought. _The teachers should interfere_. _Hopefully sometime before eight o'clock_.

*****

Unfortunately for Ginny, McGonagall and Snape had not planned an Astronomy Tower sting operation for that evening. In fact, the entire area was deserted. She didn't see another student for the entire walk from the Gryffindor common room to her meeting with Harry.

Ginny pushed open the door. He was already there, leaning against the far wall. "I brought your cloak," she said, setting it on a desk.

"Did you have fun in Hogsmeade?" Harry asked.

Ginny nodded. His supply of small talk used up, Harry launched straight into the heart of the matter. "I've been thinking about our situation. We have to tell Dumbledore about the telepathy."

Ginny thought immediately of Mórrígan's reaction if she ran to a teacher. "Absolutely not," she told Harry. "It's out of the question."

"What if it's dark magic? He needs to know, Gin."

"It's _not_ dark magic," she told him. "And we absolutely can not say a _word_ about it to anyone."

"How can he help us if we don't tell him what's happening?"

"Us?" Ginny asked. "Unless I slept through something important, there is no us."

His eyes were intent on her face. "There could be. All you have to do is say the word."

She met his gaze. "What's that supposed to mean?" she asked. Harry didn't reply. He just stood and waited for her answer. Ginny raised her eyebrows and told him, "All right. Let's say that there _is_ an us. What do we do then? Do we hold hands at lunch? Snog in empty classrooms? Fall madly in love and--"

"We're already in love." Harry stated it as a non-negotiable fact. Ginny froze. It was the first time he'd ever said the words, and for a second she was completely thrown. But she recovered quickly.

"_You_ say," she retorted.

"Denying it won't make it any less true." He still hadn't moved from his place against the wall.

Ginny paused to collect her thoughts. "All right. Let's say for the sake of argument that we are. What then, Harry?" She raked her hand through her hair, as she always did when she was upset or agitated. Ginny began to pace back and forth across the narrow tower, putting Harry in mind of a barrister making opening statements. "Are you going to live in Hogsmeade next year so that we can see each other once a month when I'm allowed off school grounds? Will we owl each other every day like bloody Heloise and Abelard?"

"Sorry, who?"

She waved her hand dismissively. "A pair of Medieval Muggles. But they're by the way. You don't seem to realize that you're leaving in eight months. Bloody fantastic time to fall in love with someone, that."

She stopped her pacing and looked at him. Harry paused a moment, and then said, "You think this is going to go away? You think it matters one bit that we're going to be separated for a year before you finish school? What's a year, Gin, compared to…." He trailed off and fixed her with that solemn look again.

"Compared to what, Harry?" He didn't answer. "Compared to _what_?" The tension stretched between them, grew with their silent contemplation of each other. "To a lifetime. That's what you were going to say, isn't it." Her words were not a question. Ginny leaned her head back and looked at the tower's glass ceiling. "_Shit_." She looked back at him. "What exactly were you planning, Harry? Propose to me at my graduation, hmmm? Or maybe even at _your_ graduation? What? We get married at eighteen like our parents? Sorry, I'm not interested."

"Then tell me you don't love me, Ginny." His eyes dared her to do exactly the opposite. "Look me in the face and say the words and I promise this will be the last you hear of it."

Ginny shook her head and ran her hand through her hair again. "I can't do that, Harry," she said. "You know I can't. But I'm just not ready."

He pushed away from the wall and joined her in the center of the room. "Not ready for what?"

"For this. Not yet. I have to learn who I am by myself before I can figure out who I am with you. It's too soon, you know? I'm barely sixteen, for heaven's sake. You're seventeen. We're neither of us old enough to start a relationship with the person we're going to marry." Ginny's throat began to close up, and she had to force the words out of her mouth. "I'm so sorry, Harry, but I can't give you the kind of relationship you want. It's not the right thing for either of us." 

Harry slid his hand behind her back and pulled her close. He used his other hand to tip her chin up so that she was looking at him. Then, carefully and deliberately, he lowered his mouth to hers. It was a kiss like nothing Ginny had ever imagined. Slow and gentle, tender and thorough. It was the kind of kiss people share when they're in love, was Ginny's dazed thought as he pulled back from her lips. "You have all the time you need," he said quietly. He kissed her again, longer and harder. He wanted to imprint himself in her memory, on her body; he wanted her to relive this kiss in her dreams and recall it whenever she thought of him.

Harry pulled back a second time. "You don't have to worry," he murmured, stroking the back of his index finger up and down the side of her neck. "I won't bring it up again."

"You won't have to," Ginny whispered, her senses still reeling from the kiss.

He pressed his lips to her forehead. "I love you, Ginny. I always will. Never forget. Just because I don't say it doesn't mean that my feelings have changed."

"Harry, I--"

He placed a finger over her lips. "You don't have to say anything. Not until you're ready."

She nodded, and backed up a few steps. She was a bit unsteady on her feet. Ginny gave Harry a small smile, and then left the tower.

As Harry watched her go, he realized that he hadn't secured her agreement to talk to Dumbledore. He decided to give her some time before he brought it up again. It really _was_ important that the Headmaster be informed of their link. Harry stood in the center of the room until enough time had elapsed for Ginny to reach her dorm, and then he grabbed his cloak and left the Astronomy Tower.

*****

Ginny walked slowly and calmly through the corridors of Hogwarts. She descended several staircases, traversed three hallways, and then climbed the steps to Gryffindor tower. She recited the password in a clear, unwavering voice, crawled through the portrait hole, and walked up the stairs to the door that said "Sixth Years." Ginny entered her room, climbed onto her bed, and slowly drew the curtains. She took out her wand and methodically placed silencing charms on all four of the velvet barriers. Then she placed her wand under her pillow, buried her head in her hands, and sobbed until she fell asleep.

*****

__

They were in a dungeon. It's floors, walls, and ceiling were made of dark gray stone, and torches flickered in wall sconces, illuminating the room with their eerie glow. The cloaked and hooded figures stood in a circle around a body that lay in a heap on the floor. "Have you killed him?" the tallest member of the circle asked, his voice high pitched and cold.

"No, master," a Death Eater replied. "He lives, but barely."

The Dark Lord bent down until his repulsive, snake-like face was barely an inch from the deformed features of his prisoner. The man's countenance, misshapen with scar tissue, was caked with a dark layer of dried blood. His magical eye was long gone, leaving an empty crater in his face. His other eye was swollen almost all the way shut. The man's limbs were twisted and bent from three solid months of undergoing the Cruciatus curse and any other tortures that might have entered the twisted minds of his captors.

"Who is_ she?" Voldemort hissed. "All you have to do is give me a name, and it will all be over." He trailed the point of his wand along the face of his prisoner, and watched with pleasure when the man shuddered with abhorrence._

"I don't know," Moody answered, his voice quiet but far from meek. "How many times can I say that I don't know?"

"Crucio_." The Dark Lord laughed as the auror convulsed in agony. "Fool!" he exclaimed. "You were Albus Dumbledore's most trusted advisor. Do you expect me to believe that he wouldn't tell you of her identity?"_

The curse ended, and Moody spat at Voldemort's feet. "I can't tell you what I don't know," he said insolently.

Voldemort turned back to his Death Eaters. "Give him another month. If he does not reveal her identity by then, perhaps he truly does not know."

"And at the end of the month?" Lucius Malfoy asked.

"Kill him."

In their respective bedrooms, two Gryffindors woke suddenly.

*****

Ginny shivered at the realism of her nightmare. Why would she have dreamt about Voldemort and Professor Moody? It had been horrible, the most vivid dream she had ever experienced. He was so misshapen, his body so twisted from their torture….

Ginny rolled over, pulled the covers over her head, and tried to get back to sleep. That night, Mórrígan came to see her.

*****

Harry sat up straight in his bed, his chest heaving with the residual fear of the dream. His scar burned on his forehead. Without thinking twice, he opened the curtains of his bed, pulled on a pair of slippers, and left the dorm. He had to tell Dumbledore, and he wasn't going to waste a minute.

The Headmaster stood in the open doorway to his tower office. "I saw you coming," he said, holding up the Marauders' map. Harry had never gotten it back after Barty Crouch, Jr., had been kissed by the Dementor.

"I had a dream," Harry said.

"Come upstairs."

The two of them rode the spiral staircase up to Dumbledore's office. With a wave of his wand, Dumbledore conjured a tea service for two and poured Harry a cup. "What do you remember?"

Harry sank into a chair. "Voldemort and Professor Moody. The Death Eaters were torturing him. They think he has some kind of information."

"Alastor is still alive?" Dumbledore asked in wonder. "We had begun to give up hope. What kind of information did they want?"

"I don't know, sir," Harry answered. "Voldemort kept saying 'Who is she?' He told Professor Moody that you would have told him who she is."

Dumbledore gave Harry an assessing look. "Did he say anything else about this person?"

"No," Harry answered. "He just wanted to know who she is. He said he needs to know her identity." They were silent for a moment. Dumbledore seemed lost in thought. "Sir?" Harry said. "Can I ask who they were talking about?"

"You could," Dumbledore told him, "but I doubt you'd get a satisfactory answer."

"Do you know who they meant? Voldemort said you do."

"I have an idea, Harry. That's all." He shuffled a few papers around and then said, "Tell me, have you noticed anything odd about Ginny Weasley lately?"

Harry set his teacup the desk. "Why would you think there's something strange with Ginny?"

"I don't have time to dance around this with you, Harry," Dumbledore answered. "It's vitally important that you tell me if you've noticed any…unusual…occurrences connected with Miss Weasley."

Harry knew he should talk to her before telling Dumbledore about the events of the past month, but he _had_ informed her that he was going to go to the Headmaster. From the intense expression on Dumbledore's face, Harry figured that this information was much more important than either he or Ginny realized. Dumbledore seemed truly desperate. "Well, it started about a month ago…."

*****

__

The garden was bright and sunny. The fragrance of exotic flowers spiced the warm breeze. Mórrígan lounged in a hammock, eating strawberries and plucking some kind of stringed instrument. As the last time Ginny saw her, the goddess was young, sensual, and indolent. She turned her head and said, "So glad you could join me, Virginia."

"What do you want?" Ginny asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I want to talk to you about that nice young man with the dark hair." The goddess gave a throaty laugh and popped another berry into her mouth.

"What if I don't want to talk about him with you?" Ginny answered.

"I don't recall giving you a choice." The goddess held up her dish, offering Ginny some berries. The girl shook her head. "You really were very hard on him today, weren't you, Virginia?"

"That's none of your business."

"Oh, but it is." Mórrígan gave Ginny a slow smile and told her, "I must admit that I'm impressed. When I told you to locate your protectors, I didn't think you would find one so quickly."

"Harry isn't my protector."

The goddess popped another berry into her mouth. "He's one of them," she said. "I daresay you'll find the other soon enough. You're a resourceful girl, aren't you, Virginia?"

"He's not," Ginny protested, even though she felt disloyal in saying so. Harry was one of the bravest people she knew and he had saved her life in the Chamber of Secrets, but there was no way he could be caught up with Mórrígan and her bizarre scheme, whatever it might be. "It's impossible."

"Is it? Why?"

Ginny thought of the events in the common room that morning, when he had grabbed her arm and not let go. She remembered the frightening turbulence of his emotions, the blankness of his expression even as he flooded her mind with roaring possessiveness. Surely a protector wouldn't frighten her the way Harry did earlier today.

"I see." Apparently, Mórrígan could read her thoughts. "You really mustn't blame him for that, Virginia. It's not as though he could help himself." The goddess swung her feet to the ground. "When the link opened between you two, it had consequences a bit more serious than telepathy." She stood, and walked away.

Ginny jogged after her. "What do you mean? How do you know about the link?" Her eyes widened in realization. "There was a crow on my windowsill. It was you, wasn't it. You're the one who cast that spell."

"Such a bright girl." Mórrígan's sneering tone was not lost on Ginny.

"Tell me he has nothing to do with this," Ginny said. "Please tell me."

"The link would have been unsuccessful if he wasn't truly your protector. Opening your minds to each other was a necessary step in—"

"Why would you do something like that? Do you have any idea the kind of trouble you've caused?"

Mórrígan turned to face the girl. Her voice was silky smooth, but carried more than a hint of warning. "I believe that, upon our first meeting, I told you to never take that tone with me again."

Ginny neither apologized nor looked away from the goddess's eyes. "What's wrong with him?" she asked. "Ever since that day he's been acting strangely."

Mórrígan raised an eyebrow. "He's in love. I'm given to understand that people do strange things when they're in love."

"You know that's not what I'm talking about," Ginny said. "He suddenly thinks that he can tell me what to do. He's more than just protective, he's possessive and he can't control it. He's bleeding into me, Mórrígan, and I don't know how to make it stop." Her words betrayed her desperation; it was the first time she had ever addressed the goddess by name.

"It's a natural reaction," the goddess said. "He's going to have trouble controlling his protectiveness, at least until he gets used to it. But then, that's why he's there. It's why he was born_, Virginia. You can't take it away from him."_

Mórrígan held out her hand. A vial full of clear liquid appeared a few inches above her palm and dropped into her grasp. She closed her fingers around it and held it out to Ginny. "This should help for now," she said. "Each of you drink half. It will contain the link until the two of you learn to control it. No more of this bleeding into each other. It sounds most unpleasant."

Ginny extended her palm, and the goddess dropped the vial onto it. "Do you have any idea how rude it is to just invade_ someone's dreams without their permission?" Ginny asked._

The goddess laughed. It was not a nice sound. "My goodness, Virginia. Aren't we the little hypocrite today?"

Ginny's eyes flew open. In her right hand, she clutched a glass vial full of clear liquid.

*****

Dumbledore fixed Harry with a gaze so intent, Harry wondered if the Headmaster was trying to read his thoughts. "Have you left anything out?" Dumbledore asked. "The telepathy, the sudden uncontrollable protective urges you're feeling, her misadventure in the lake last night—is there anything else?"

Harry shook his head. "No. That's all that I know of."

"All right," Dumbledore said. "That's all the information I require, Harry. Thank you very much for coming to me with this."

"Sir, what's going on? Is Ginny in danger?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Yes, she is. Very grave, immediate danger. I need you to promise that you'll keep a close eye on her. Not that you'll be able to do otherwise. Come to me immediately if there are any more unusual occurrences."

"What's going on? Why is Voldemort looking for her?"

Dumbledore hesitated. "It would be best if Ginny is here herself when I tell you. Please bring her to my office tomorrow evening."

"She has a Care of Magical Creatures night lab," Harry answered. "We'll come after."

Dumbledore nodded. "That will be fine. Thank you, Harry."

Harry nodded, and left the tower with more questions than he had when he entered it.

*****

The next morning, Ginny woke to the sound of Ria dropping something very heavy and then cursing a blue streak. Ginny still clutched the glass vial. She sat up, and noticed a package wrapped in brown paper sitting at the foot of her bed. Curious, Ginny picked it up and saw that the tag had her name on it. On the back in neat penmanship that she didn't recognize, it said, "Wear it in good health, and don't let them drag you down."

Curious, she tore the paper off of the gift. She stifled a gasp as she saw what it was: the green velvet dress that she had admired in Gladrags. "Who would spend this much money on me?" she whispered, astonished. She picked up the tag again and scrutinized it, reached under her pillow for her wand, and whispered, "_Identifico_." The only thing the spell gave her was the smell of a summer breeze whispering through pines.

"I don't believe this. I bloody well don't believe this." She flung her bed curtains aside and jumped to her feet. Ria was the only one in the room. Ginny thrust the dress at her. "Look at this, Ria!"

"What?" Her roommate was still sleepy.

"This dress."

"Ginny, I appreciate it but you know I don't really go in for that kind of thing."

"It's not for you! It was left on my bed this morning."

"It's nice," she said.

"It's three hundred Galleons worth of nice." Ginny began to pace. "I admired it in the shop."

"Who's it from?" Ria asked.

"Bloody Harry, that's who. I _told_ him that—"

"Gin, it couldn't be from Harry. He didn't go to Hogsmeade yesterday."

"He didn't? How do you know?"

"Because I spent the entire day wiping the Quidditch pitch with him. Trust me, he didn't buy you that dress."

"If he didn't, who did?" Ginny asked.

Ria picked up the brown wrapping and read the note. "I don't know, but I suggest you wear it in good health. And keep it away from Gwen and Shannon, or they'll be after you to borrow it."

*****

The night was cold and starry. The sixth year Care of Magical Creatures class stood in a circle on the lawn near Hagrid's cabin. He had a several small cages with him, each one containing a wicked looking little fairy covered with black hair. "Now, the thing about Doxies is that yeh don' know what they'll eat. Every batch is differen'. I had you all come out tonight because we're goin' to try these ones on glowworms." He held up a container full of squirming, luminescent worms. "We'll see how they like 'em. Careful of the fangs. Nasty biters, Doxies are."

Ginny and Ria looked askance at the writhing glowworms. "I'm not touching them," Ria said. "You do it."

Ginny picked up one of the slimy, squiggly bugs and stuck it between the bars of the cage. Instead of biting into the worm, the Doxy sank her fangs into the pad of Ginny's index finger. "Ow!" Ginny cried, pulling her hand back.

"Are you okay?" Ria turned to get Hagrid's attention. Doxies' fangs were venomous.

Ginny looked at her finger, and squeezed the injury to see if the fairy had broken the skin. Blood welled from the puncture wounds. Ginny almost had heart failure. She stared at her blood for one moment, then two, and then sucked in a strangled gasp. She fisted her hand and stuck it in her pocket.

"Here, Ginny? All right?" Hagrid asked.

"It bit me," she choked out. "I have to get to the hospital wing."

"Doxy venom isn't too strong. Ria'll go with yeh', just in case."

"No." Ginny backed away from him. "No, she won't. I'll go alone." Ginny turned and ran for all she was worth, never taking her fist out of her pocket.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

What a way to end a chapter! Sorry, H/G (or even M/G) fans, but from here on out romance will have to take a back seat; Ginny's life is about to get a whole lot more complicated. In the next chapter, several questions are answered but Ginny's adventure is just beginning. Have I mentioned before that "The Rebirth" is part one of a two (or maybe even three) part story? Because it is. We're just getting started. Why did Ginny freak out at the sight of her blood? What has Mórrígan been trying to tell Ginny? What is that ring for? Who's the other protector? Why _did_ Voldemort want to kill Harry? What was Trelawney's first prediction? What's going on? What ever it is, I can guarantee Ginny is not going to like it. Give me your theories, either in a review on ffn, on my www.schnoogle.com review board, or send a note to [irina@schnoogle.com][1]. And don't forget to include your email address because the person whose answer is closest gets a special sneak preview of chapter 6. I'll email the chapter to the winner a full day before it goes live on ffn and schnoogle. If that's not an incentive to review, I don't know what is. Also coming next chapter: the inauguration of my yahoo group! Since ffn doesn't do author alert anymore, y'all will be able to join the mailing list for instant notification of when a new part comes out and, if you feel the need, the yahoo group will also be great for discussion of the story, distribution of cookies, and one more way to review. I hope to see you there. Don't forget to review part five (and don't forget to include your email address)!

Danette, my beta reader, wrote a darling outtake for chapter 5. It takes place between Seamus and Dana, after Ginny and Mike leave The Three Broomsticks. It's posted under my ffn account. Even though it doesn't fit in the chapter, it offers some insight to the character of Dana Silvermoon, including her relationship with Draco Malfoy. Don't forget to take a look!

And now, the list of honor!

Thanks so much to the people who reviewed on ffn: ~Danielle~ [two reviews for one chapter! I feel so special! You're obviously reading very carefully. Keep it up!]; Admiral Albia; Marry Potter; Silvestria [I started HP & the Unbreakable Link. It's very fun to read. Hopefully some day you'll see the H/G light! J ]; Ginnybear of Gryffindor [Hi, Ginnybear! The writer's block is over!]; Mike; R.J. Anderson [Pivet v. Privet—oops. It's been fixed. Thanks for pointing it out. I'm glad you like the story!]; EmeraldDragon, GoldenFire; Condor_5; Gina Potter [you're not too far off track there]; and Kiara. I'm feeling the love, y'all.

   [1]: mailto:irina@schnoogle.com



	7. The Prophecy

Title: The Rebirth—Chapter 5 "The Protector" 

Title: The Rebirth—Chapter 6 "The Prophecy"

Author name: Irina  
Author email: Irina@schnoogle.com

Category: drama, romance  
Keywords: Ginny, destiny, angst, romance, drama  
Spoilers: All four books  
Rating: PG-13

Summary: So why _did_ Voldemort try to kill Harry? An ancient power has reawakened and the answers to all the mysteries lie with Ginny Weasley.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Any descriptions of the Hogwarts uniforms are based on the photo spread in October's _Vanity Fair_.

Author's Note: Thanks as always to Danette for being a super beta reader, keeping me motivated, and knowing exactly what makes the Silvermoons tick. Thanks to Gokuh4060 for being cool. Thanks to karei and Lissanne for plugging me on their mailing list. Thanks also to DRI, my newest beta, for her inspirational feedback. Lots of cool stuff in this chapter, folks, so don't forget to let me know what you think after you're done.

****

Special Announcement_: Tired_ of always checking this site and never knowing when the story has been updated? I've started up a yahoo group so readers can be immediately notified when a new chapter goes up, and can read outtakes and excerpts from future chapters while they wait. The address for the group is at the bottom of the chapter, and a chapter seven cookie has already been posted. Feel free to check it out! :-) I hope to see you all there!

****

Chapter 6

The Prophecy

Ginny looked at her finger, and squeezed the injury to see if the fairy had broken the skin. Blood welled from the puncture wounds. Ginny almost had heart failure. She stared at her blood for one moment, then two, and sucked in a strangled gasp. She fisted her hand and stuck it in her pocket.

"Here, Ginny? All right?" Hagrid asked.

"It bit me," she choked out. "I have to get to the hospital wing."

"Doxy venom isn't too strong. Ria'll go with yeh', just in case."

"No." Ginny backed away from him. "No, she won't. I'll go alone." Ginny turned and ran for all she was worth, never taking her fist out of her pocket.

*****

Ginny flew up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower, gasped out the password, and scrambled through the portrait hole. She threw herself on the floor in front of the fireplace and gulped several deep breaths in a vain attempt to calm herself. The run and the fact that she couldn't stop hyperventilating made her feel light-headed. Her heart pounded so hard she thought it might jump out of her chest. Warily, Ginny pulled her fist from her pocket and uncurled her fingers, praying that she had been mistaken, that it had been a trick of the light, anything. Her heart plummeted. She thought she might be sick. It had not been a mistake; there might not be anything wrong with her vision, but there was obviously something _very_ wrong with her.

An avalanche of footsteps echoed down the stairs from the dorms. Ginny clenched her fist as the first year class converged on the common room, telescopes in hand. Ginny sighed in relief. Of course. It was Monday, which meant that they had their midnight Astronomy lesson. None of the students paid her any mind as they wandered out of the portrait hole, some of them talking and laughing, some lagging behind sleepily. Once again, the common room was empty.

Slowly and deliberately, Ginny grabbed a pinch of the green powder from the dish on the mantel and threw it into the fire. Usually it was only used by homesick first years, but this was most definitely an emergency. "Molly Weasley," Ginny ordered. 

With a pop, her mother's head appeared in the flames and fired off several frantic questions in a row. "Ginny, what's wrong? Are you all right? Has something happened to Ron or Harry?"

"No, mum. We're all…fine. I need to ask you a question." Ginny had no idea how she was going to ask said question, but she was going to give it her most valiant effort.

Molly spluttered, "You what? Do you have any idea what time it is? And you called because you have a question? I thought you or Ron…that You-Know-Who…really, Ginny, you're supposed to be the responsible one at that school. I have half a mind to send you a Howler that—"

"_No_, mum, please! It's important. Please just—"

"All right," Molly sniffed indignantly. "Ask. Then I can get back to bed."

She desperately wanted to tell her mother to go back to bed, that the question was one that didn't need to be asked. But Ginny needed to know, so she plunged ahead. "Do you remember me ever getting hurt when I was little? Skinned knees, paper cuts, broom accidents, anything at all?"

"Of course," Molly said. "All children are injured at one time or another, Ginny."

"Can you remember a particular instance?" she demanded. "Tell me a specific story about a time I hurt myself badly enough to bleed. That's what I need to know."

Molly thought for a moment. "You weren't an accident prone child, compared to your brothers."

"Just one injury, mum. That's all."

"I can't remember any _specific _occasions…"

Ginny's heart seized in her chest. "Do you think that's because there weren't any?" she asked in a hoarse whisper.

"Don't be silly. All children have accidents. Just because I can't remember any off the top of my head…Why do you need to know so badly?"

"Um," Ginny thought frantically, "It's for homework."

The creases of irritation on Molly's face deepened into a look of severe annoyance. Her voice was sharp when she said, "Left it a bit late, didn't you? Honestly, Ginny, it's the middle of the night! Bill and Percy never did their assignments the night before. And waking me because of your poor time management skills…making me think You-Know-Who had—"

"Thanks, mum," Ginny said dully. "You've been a big help." She waved her wand and her mother vanished from the fire.

When the grandfather clock began to chime, Ginny made a collected effort to pull her mind back together. Nothing was ever solved by panicking, after all. Calm, clear thoughts were needed now. Directed reasoning focused on…oh God! What was she going to do? Ginny's brain just…stopped. She was completely paralyzed with shock, and no matter how she prodded herself, her thoughts kept returning to her hand, by now slick with blood from the untreated bite. Her hand, her blood…it wasn't possible.

Ginny didn't know how long she sat on the floor like a stunned zombie, but she was finally shaken out of her stupor by a loud caw at the window. Ginny jerked her head toward the sound. Sure enough, a large black crow sat on the windowsill. She darted across the room and hurled the casement open; cold air gusted into her face and tossed her hair. "What!" she demanded of the bird. It tilted its head and looked at her quizzically. "_What!_ Haven't I given you plenty already? Isn't it enough that you're always there when I sleep? Is that somehow inadequate for you, that you need to follow me around when I'm awake?"

The crow cawed again, and turned its head to peer at her through one beady eye. It occurred to Ginny how very odd she would seem, standing at the window yelling at a bird, to anyone who happened to come downstairs. A hysterical giggle bubbled from her lips. _That_ was what she was worried about people seeing? The crow was concerned at her laughter; it sensed the panic that Ginny was just barely holding in check.

She held her hand to the bird's face. "_Look_ at this!" The blood trickled down her finger; her palm was smeared with it from when she had made a fist. Ginny's lower lip trembled, but she maintained a cold grip on her fear and did not cry. "What's going on?" She forced her voice not to shake. "I have to know, _now_. I'm not going to play your sadistic guessing game anymore. I just won't do it."

The crow eyed Ginny's blood-smeared hand and then inclined its head once. It stretched its neck up, slid its beak under the chain around Ginny's neck, and lifted the ring from beneath her collar. She eyed the shimmering clearness of the diamond, sliced in two by the shadow of the window frame. Half of the ring reflected the golden firelight of the common room and the red shimmer from the upholstery and tapestries. The other half was bathed in the darkness of the night, illuminated only by the cold light of the November moon. The ring glistened silver and gold, warm and cool. 

Ginny raised her eyes back to the crow and snatched the ring from its beak. Its lumpy shape made a strange impression against her palm; the ring was slightly warm from resting against her skin and the blood on her hand made it slippery. Suddenly, the ring flared. Silver-hot light streaked between her fingers, so bright it seemed solid. Ginny couldn't let go; she could only fall to her knees as a dam inside of her burst and an uncontrollable power flooded her veins. It burned through her bones, consuming her skin and her muscles and her mind with its white-hot flame.

*****

Harry drowsed on his bed, the curtains drawn. He was waiting for Ginny's class to return from their lab, but he couldn't help dropping off; it had been a difficult couple of days. His Divination textbook dropped to the blanket as he gave up the battle to keep his eyes open.

A series of insistent taps woke Harry from his nap. He blinked sleepily, and heard the tapping again. Something was knocking against the dorm window. Harry pushed his glasses further up his nose and opened his bed curtains. When he set his feet on the floor and stood, the taps sped up, beating a frantic rhythm against the glass.

Harry padded over to the window and peered out curiously. The tapping ceased. Frowning, Harry pushed the glass open and leaned out. There was nobody there, and nothing that could have made the sound he had heard. Suddenly, right next to his ear, a crow gave an ear-splitting caw. Harry shouted in surprise and banged his head against the window when he jerked away from the noise.

"Ow!" He frowned at the bird. It didn't have any pouch or letter tied to its ankle, so it wasn't delivering him any kind of mail. "What do you want?"

The bird cawed again, and then took off. It quickly disappeared against the black sky. Harry was confused; had the crow wanted to wake him up? He pulled the window closed and rubbed his head where he had hit it. He turned back to his bed, and got exactly two steps before a blinding fire exploded through his body. It was strangely different from any kind of pain Harry had felt before, as though it wasn't quite real, as though it was all in his mind. The burning sensation quickly peaked, and then faded just as rapidly. As it lessened, a voice cried in Harry's head. _It's not you_. A woman's voice, wild and cold, the sound of splintered nightmares. _It's not you_, she said again. _It's an echo of her. Go downstairs!_

The voice urged with an Otherworldly force. Harry was immediately spurred into action; he jerked open the door to his dorm and took the stairs to the common room two at a time.

What he saw when he reached the bottom was a sight that would be burned in his mind forever. Ginny sat on the floor, leaning against the wall beneath the window. Her eyes were half closed and gazed straight ahead with a dazed, unfocused expression of pain mixed with shock. Her chest rose and fell with rapid, shallow breaths and with a death grip she clutched a charm that hung around her neck. Ginny was _glowing_. A faint silver light seeped from her skin, forming an ethereal shimmering aura that surrounded her body. The room was filled with power, oppressive in its strength, but it parted when Harry shook off his astonishment and raced across the room.

"What happened?" he demanded.

Ginny blinked a few times, and lifted her eyes to his. Harry didn't think she was seeing him, but then her eyes focused slightly and she croaked, "It hurts."

Harry instinctively reached out to comfort her, but froze just before his hand came in contact with her skin. He clenched his fingers into a fist and withdrew his arm; no matter how badly he wanted to, it wouldn't be wise to touch her until he knew what had put her in so much pain that he felt it through their link. "Ginny, what happened to you?" he asked again.

She swallowed convulsively and then said, "My hand. I hurt…my hand."

Harry cast caution to the wind and took the hand that clutched her necklace. Her skin was ice cold to the touch. Finger by finger, Harry gently loosened her grip and then opened her palm to his gaze. He couldn't stifle the low, horrified cry at what he saw. The only time he had ever seen blood that color before was in his first year—the Forbidden Forest, Voldemort, Malfoy, a slain unicorn—it all flooded back to him as he looked at the glistening silver shimmer that coated her hand and the ring she wore around her neck. "Ginny," his voice was strained and urgent, "how did you get unicorn blood on your hand?"

She looked more rational with every passing moment. The pain was passing, and the light that leaked from her skin began to fade. "My finger," she breathed.

Harry saw that most of the blood was concentrated on her index finger. He probed the spot and gasped when the silver blood welled from a pair of twin puncture wounds. _It was coming from her_. He raised his eyes to Ginny's. The light had almost completely faded from her skin, and her eyes were once again lucid. "Ginny," he said.

She fisted her hand. "It's nothing, Harry." She desperately wanted to believe it was true.

"This is _not_ nothing. How long…how long has your blood been silver?"

She laughed humorlessly. "I wouldn't know, since this is the first time I've ever seen any of it."

"That's impossible."

"Obviously not." 

His lips tightened. "We have to tell Dumbledore."

*****

Harry dragged Ginny through the halls of Hogwarts. His legs were so long that she had to jog to keep up. He clutched her left hand tightly; with every step, his thoughts grew more frantic. Dumbledore had told him just the night before that she was in terrible danger from Voldemort. And now she had been attacked—Harry refused to consider that he might lose her to Dark Wizards, just as he had lost his parents. It couldn't happen, not as long as he had breath. He was especially shaken by the fact that he had found her in the common room. Hogwarts was supposed to be the safest place in Britain, but somehow the school had been infiltrated and Ginny had been hurt.

Harry held his wand at the ready and checked around every corner between the tower and Dumbledore's office, only pulling Ginny along when he was sure the hallways were deserted. She followed with minimal argument, although he knew that under normal circumstances she would never have gone without complaint. Although she appeared calm she was tremendously shaken.

The pair rounded a corner just as the gargoyle statue that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's office slid aside. The Headmaster stepped into the hall and turned to them; as before, he held the Marauders' Map in his hand. Dumbledore immediately saw that Harry hadn't merely brought Ginny to have a conversation; something had happened. Something big enough to frighten two of the most outwardly unflappable students at the school. They rushed up to him and Harry gasped out, "Professor, Ginny's hand, that is, her finger, it's—"

"Not here, Harry," Dumbledore cut in. "Come upstairs."

Dumbledore ushered the pair through the door ahead of him and the trio rode the spiral staircase to the Headmaster's office. Harry still hadn't released Ginny's hand, and based on how tightly he held it, he wasn't likely to let go in the near future. Harry tapped his foot against the wooden stair, adjusted his robes and glasses, and otherwise fidgeted relentlessly. Ginny stood next to him, silent and still as a statue. Dumbledore noticed that her right hand was wrapped in black fabric. Frowning in puzzlement, his eyes fell on the bottom of Harry's school robes. The once neatly sewn hem had been replaced by torn, frayed threads. The Headmaster raised his eyebrows in surprise; if Harry's impromptu first aid was any indication, then he had a fairly good idea about what had unnerved them so.

Once inside the office, Dumbledore motioned for his students to take the chairs that faced his desk. They sat; Ginny's face was impassive, Harry's impatient. Dumbledore thought the only part of Harry that wasn't in motion was his right hand, and then only because his fingers were still entwined with Ginny's. With a wave of his wand, he conjured up a tea service for three and a plate of chocolates and motioned for the students to help themselves. To break the ice, he indicated Ginny's makeshift bandage and asked, "What happened?"

She regarded him silently for a moment and then her eyes slid away from his and she spoke for the first time. "Harry, I'm going to need my hand back."

"What?" Harry asked, not expecting her question.

"My hand," she repeated. "I need it to drink the tea."

"Oh." He flushed. "Oh, right." He dropped her hand and began drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. Ginny poured herself a cup of tea and took a sip.

"Good?" Dumbledore asked.

She nodded. "Yes, thank you." Her face was still calm, but Dumbledore detected a tension in her expression and posture that lent her an air of urgency. He knew this wasn't going to be easy.

"He asked about your hand," Harry burst out. "Show him your hand, Gin."

She took another sip of tea and then slowly set her cup on the edge of the desk. "I'd rather not."

Dumbledore looked at her over the top of his half-moon glasses. "Ginny," he said, "What happened this evening?"

She met his gaze straight on. Behind her calm front, he could sense desperation. "I was bitten by a Doxy at my night lab."

This was like pulling teeth. "Why did Harry tear off the bottom of his robes to bandage it?"

"Because it was bleeding."

Dumbledore asked, "Why didn't you go to the Hospital Wing, then? I'm sure Madame Pomfrey's bandages are much more hygienic."

She shrugged in response.

Harry made an aggravated noise and burst out, "Her blood isn't red, Professor! She's under some kind of spell, or—"

Ginny's eyes narrowed slightly, but other than that she exhibited no reaction to Harry's declaration.

"Is this true, Ginny?" Dumbledore asked. He felt adrenaline rush through his system; finally, after all these years, had he finally found the one he had been waiting for?

Again, she shrugged.

He eyed her for a moment and then, in a quiet, urgent voice, asked, "Is it silver?" Her eyes widened, and Dumbledore sighed in relief. His instincts had been correct, and the search was over.

"How did you guess?" she demanded.

He paused. Her entire world was about to change, and not for the better. He chose his words carefully. "There's something you have to know, Ginny. It's not going to be easy to hear, but it's time for you to learn who you are." At this, Harry sat up very straight, his gaze flicking back and forth between Dumbledore and Ginny.

Ginny's eyes were wary. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean. I'm Ginny Weasley. That's who I am."

"That's true," Dumbledore said. "But there's a lot that you don't know." He rested his fingertips against each other and looked at her for a moment. "Ginny, have you ever heard of the Pendragon prophecy?"

She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "I think so, in History of Magic." She blushed. "But, um, I'm afraid I don't…"

"It's all right," Dumbledore reassured gently. "I daresay you had other things on your mind that day. Do you at least remember the premise?"

"King Arthur was the last Pendragon," she said slowly. "And when they took him to Avalon after he had been wounded in battle, there was a prophecy that in his people's darkest hour, the Pendragon would return and save them."

Dumbledore nodded. "That's almost entirely correct."

"Is it?"

"You see," Dumbledore chose his words very carefully, "the Pendragon isn't a specific person, so much as a manifestation of power. The prophecy wasn't that King Arthur himself would return; he's quite dead, I'm afraid. But the power of the Pendragon would return, in the charge of someone who is destined to protect us in our most desperate, dangerous time."

"All right," she said slowly. "What does this have to do with anything?"

Dumbledore took a sip of his tea. "I read the signs years ago. I remember it like yesterday—the dreams, the shifts of power along the magical plane…the power has been reborn, and I believe the Pendragon will be the one to finally defeat Voldemort forever."

Ginny was no longer looking at Dumbledore. She had turned to Harry with an expression of awe, concern, and not a little bit of pity. Dumbledore kept talking, and waited for the truth to dawn on her. "According to the prophecy, the Pendragon possesses many powers beyond those of normal wizards and witches. She can—"

Ginny gave him a sharp look. "She?"

"Yes," he said. "She can—"

"_She?_ But then," Ginny glanced at Harry. "But then he's not—"

"No," Dumbledore said quietly. "No, he's not. You are."

Ginny shook her head. "That's impossible. I've never…it's just impossible."

"The prophecy is clear on the point that the next Pendragon will be female. King Arthur's reign brought Christianity to this island, and the gods of the old faith were forgotten by all but a loyal few. Needless to say, they didn't want _that_ debacle repeated. And there is a substantial amount of evidence that you are, in fact, the one from the prophecy."

"What kind of evidence?" she demanded.

"Well, there is the matter of your silver blood—the mark of the Pendragon. Also, you were born on the most sacred calendar feast in a year marked by radical redistributions of power, not to mention prophetic dreams on the part of the entire British wizarding population. And then, just three months ago, you disappeared into a sacred pond on the night of another calendar feast."

"How did you know about that?" Mórrígan was going to kill her.

"Your father sent me an owl that very same night. He believed that you had no memory of where you went, but I don't."

Ginny gave him an incredulous look. "Are you saying I'm a liar?"

"You were in the Otherworld, weren't you." It wasn't a question. "Some deity or other, perhaps Macha or the Mórrígan—" Ginny flinched and Dumbledore nodded. "It was the Mórrígan then? And the night of the ball?"

Ginny looked at Harry, betrayed. "You _told_ him about that?"

Harry stared at her as though he'd never quite seen her before. "I said I would." Harry had listened to the exchange between the Headmaster and Ginny with growing astonishment. She was right, it didn't seem possible. But if Dumbledore's words were true, then saving Britain from Voldemort was no longer his responsibility. Harry had never felt so relieved in his life. Mixed with that relief, however, was fear for Ginny's welfare. Being the Pendragon was surely dangerous. "This obviously isn't something you can handle by yourself, Gin."

"Harry is correct," Dumbledore said. "For this reason, the prophecy also mentions two protectors—"

Ginny knocked her cup off the desk. It fell to the floor of the office, the tea spreading across the carpet in a dark, splattered stain. "Oh!" Ginny exclaimed. "I'm sorry! I only…what was that about two protectors?"

"It's quite all right," Dumbledore said. The spill was gone with a wave of his wand and he poured her a new cup of tea. She clutched it in both hands.

"As I said, the Pendragon is to have two protectors. The prophecy states that they'll both be male, and they'll be—"

Ginny spoke slowly, fighting her growing nausea. "The two people who would protect her to the death, no matter what the circumstances." The words Mórrígan had said to her just the other day.

Dumbledore was surprised. "That's exactly what it says. You've read it then?"

Her eyes were fixed firmly on the floor as she shook her head. "Somebody told me."

Dumbledore nodded. "And, Harry, that is why I wanted you to be present when I told Ginny all of this."

Harry already knew, on some instinctive level, what the Headmaster was going to say to him. "I'm one of them, aren't I?"

Ginny raised her gaze to Dumbledore. "How did you know? That he's a protector, I mean. I only just found out—" She stopped abruptly, aware that she had given herself away.

"You _knew_ about this!" Harry exclaimed. "You knew and you didn't tell me?"

"Harry!" the Headmaster reprimanded. "This is not the time. I have known, Ginny, ever since Harry was born. Professor Trelawney predicted that the rebirth of the Pendragon was drawing near and that Harry would be one of her protectors." He looked very old, all of a sudden. "It's why Voldemort wanted, still wants, to kill you, Harry. With only one protector left, the Pendragon would be that much easier to control. With her power on his side, nothing could stand in his way."

"But Voldemort didn't kill me," Harry said. "So why didn't he go after the other protector? Why would he have left us both alive?"

Dumbledore hedged, "There are any number of reasons that could be. I don't know the identity of the second protector, so perhaps Voldemort doesn't either although intelligence I have received suggests otherwise. Or he could have made an unpublicized attempt on a child's life."

"Or the second protector is the son of a Death Eater," Ginny said tonelessly.

Dumbledore nodded. "That is also a very real possibility."

She shook her head. "It's a probability," she whispered. "Or else why would he keep going after Harry, who's so well protected, instead of taking on the one you don't know about?" This had to be some kind of bad dream. Things like this just didn't _happen_. Normal people didn't wake up one morning to have a cosmic destiny dumped on their heads.

"There has to be some mistake." Her expression was bleak. "I don't have any special powers. I've never done anything like that."

"Of course you haven't," Dumbledore said. "You haven't had any practice. All magical abilities need to be developed before they can be used. And your power hasn't even been awakened yet. According to the prophecy there is a ring, a powerful magical object that focuses the power of the Pendragon and channels it according to her wishes. Unfortunately it, along with several other objects relating to the Pendragon, has been lost through the centuries. Until this ring is found—"

"Ginny has a ring on a chain around her neck," Harry spoke up. Ginny glared at him.

Dumbledore started. "Really? May I see?"

Ginny froze. She remembered the first time she met Mórrígan, when the goddess had given her the ring and told her to wear it, but not show it to anyone. _Sod Mórrígan_, she said to herself._ What has she ever done for me_? Harry jumped, and gave Ginny an odd look. Ginny realized with embarrassment that he heard her through their link. She grabbed the chain of her necklace and pulled the diamond ring out from under her robes. It was clear in most spots, but some of it was smeared with silver. It glittered in the candlelight.

"She was holding it when I came downstairs to the common room," Harry volunteered.

"Would you please not talk about her like she isn't sitting right next to you?" Ginny said, annoyed.

Harry was immediately contrite. "Sorry, Gin." Then, through the link, he said _I know this isn't easy, but he has to know_.

Dumbledore, meanwhile, had leaned across his desk and was examining the ring closely, but without touching it. "How did you _find_ this? It's been lost for nearly a millenium; I've been searching for decades. This is your blood, then?" he asked, indicating the stains on the ring.

She scowled. "Mórrígan tricked me into holding it while my hand was bleeding."

The Headmaster looked up. "She was _here_?"

"In the common room. She was a crow that—"

"A crow?" Harry cut in. "I was asleep and a crow woke me up. And then a voice spoke in my head…" he trailed off, growing more uneasy by the moment as he recalled what had happened. Ginny's mouth tightened around the corners, but she didn't comment on Harry's statement. "Professor, when I found her, she was glowing. I thought maybe she had been attacked—" Ginny cleared her throat pointedly, and Harry flushed. "Sorry again."

"You weren't attacked, Ginny," Dumbledore reassured. "But apparently the power _has_ been awakened. This is excellent. You can begin practice with it immediately."

"Power to do what, exactly?" she asked.

Dumbledore made an expansive gesture with his hands. "Well, as to that, the prophecy requires some interpretation."

"Power to do _what_, exactly?" Ginny repeated.

Dumbledore recited the words he had read often enough to know by heart. "The Pendragon has the power to restore balance to the wizarding world. It is why it was so important to shield Harry from Voldemort. With only one protector alive, the balance would have been disrupted. She is the connection between this world and the Otherworld, the bridge between the old ways and the new. According to the prophecy, nothing is hidden from her eyes. She is the embodiment of the old Power, reborn in a new time. Ginny, I know how hard this must be for you to hear—"

"What does all of that mean?" she interrupted. "I don't understand."

"I don't know," he replied. "I don't suppose we'll learn what kind of powers you have until you start manifesting them. Wandless magic is sure to be one of them, but beyond that," he spread his hands, "I'm as lost as you are."

"I doubt that very much," she said. "And I think you're wrong. I can't be this person you've been waiting for. I'm so sorry, sir, because you've been waiting for such a long time, but it just isn't true. You'll need to find someone else."

"There _is_ no one else," he said. "Tonight you bought the power with your blood. It's been unleashed, and it's inside of you. Now you have a responsibility to yourself, and to the wizarding world, to learn to use it."

"I didn't _choose_ this!" Ginny exclaimed, suddenly very angry.

"No," he answered solemnly, "you didn't. But that doesn't mean you don't still have choices. You can choose to accept your power and the responsibility that comes with it, or you can choose to fight your destiny."

Ginny sat silently, her head down. Harry reached over, threaded his fingers through hers, and squeezed. She squeezed back, and didn't let go. Her thoughts were all jumbled together, and she didn't know what was going to happen or when, only that she was afraid. But knowing that she and Harry were in this together was some small comfort, at least.

"The two of you will have to learn to control your link. I understand it gave you trouble yesterday morning, but it is vital that you be able to communicate at all times. No doubt once you've had some practice with it the strong feelings the link inspires will decrease."

Ginny glared at Harry, but didn't release his hand. _Exactly how much did you tell?_

He met her eyes without a trace of guilt. _Everything. And I'd do it again. Gin, I can't believe you didn't tell me about any of this._

"What about the second protector?" she asked.

"No doubt he will reveal himself in time," Dumbledore replied. "I would ask you to not go looking for him. I don't want to risk your identity being revealed to Voldemort before it's tactically advantageous to do so. Waiting for the right moment could be crucial to the cause, so the fact that you're the Pendragon is not to go beyond this room."

Ginny looked at Harry, and then turned back to the Headmaster. "But my family—"

"Not even your family can know, Ginny. It is best for everyone involved that it remain an absolute secret."

Ginny didn't know how she would deal with something of this magnitude without the support of her family. They were all very close, and she knew it would kill her to hide something like this from them. "You're asking rather a lot, aren't you?" she said to Dumbledore. Harry squeezed her hand in warning, but she plunged ahead. "You bring me up here, pour me a cup of tea, tell me that I now officially have no choice in the direction my life is going to take, and in the same breath tell me I have to keep it a secret from my family and friends."

Dumbledore looked slightly unsettled, but not surprised. He had hoped she would have taken it better than this, but it _was_ rather a lot to assimilate in such a short span of time and he wasn't especially shocked that she reacted with anger. "Voldemort is gaining strength with every passing day," he said sternly. "Believe me, I'd love to allow you to tell your family and give you all the time you need to adjust, but I don't have that luxury. There are more important things at stake."

Ginny didn't reply. She sank back into the chair, and stared at the floor. The trio sat in silence for a moment, and then Dumbledore said, "This has been difficult for both of you. Perhaps you should return to your dormitory for the night. We can talk about the rest another day."

"There's more?" Harry asked, incredulous.

"Another day," Dumbledore said firmly. "You two need sleep."

Ginny snorted scornfully. Sleep? After the evening she just had? Not bloody likely.

*****

Harry and Ginny walked down the hall silently, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Harry's reverie was disturbed when Ginny abruptly shook her hand out of his and stopped in her tracks, grabbing the wall for support. "Gin?" he asked. "Are you all right?"

She turned so that her back leaned against the wall and then slid to the floor, her knees drawn up against her chest. "This can't be real." She took a shaky breath. "It just can't be."

Harry looked down at Ginny for a moment, and then sat down next to her and leaned against the wall. "How long have you known?"

"As long as you have." Her fingers plucked at the threads of the carpet.

"But when Dumbledore said that I'm a protector you told him you already knew. How long?"

"That part? Just since yesterday." She could feel him looking at her but refused to meet his eyes. Ginny reached into her pocket and withdrew the glass vial Mórrígan had given her. She had carried it around all day hoping that the proper moment would present itself, but now that it was here she was strangely reluctant to give him the potion.

She fiddled with the vial, rolling it back and forth between her palms, and whispered brokenly, "How can you even stand to be near me?"

"Sorry?" Harry said. He wasn't sure what he had expected her to say, but that certainly wasn't it.

"Your parents would still be alive if you weren't one of the protectors. Indirectly, it's because of me that—"

Harry cut her off by covering her hands with one of his. "Ginny, that's not true. This is no different from Cedric. You were only, what, two hours old when my parents died? They're gone because Voldemort killed them."

"But he killed them because of me." She still hadn't looked at him.

At that moment, Harry hated Voldemort for making her feel guilty for a crime that was in no way her fault. "No doubt he'd be thrilled to hear that you feel that way," he said, "but it's not true. Don't fall into the trap of blaming yourself for his actions because if you do, you'll never escape. I've been there the last two and a half years."

After a few moments of silence, Harry drew his hand back. Ginny went right back to fidgeting with the vial in her hands. Finally, she whispered, "I'm so sorry."

"Gin, I just said—"

"Not about your parents," she interrupted. "About…last night. You took me by surprise, and I was angry with you for it."

"I could tell," he said. "You weren't subtle, were you?"

"I'm sorry. The last thing I'd ever want to do is hurt you."

"You didn't," he said gently. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I didn't?" she repeated. "But all those things I said!"

Harry slid his arm around her shoulders. "Were they really so awful?" he asked. "You said that you're not ready to be with me yet because a relationship between us would require you to commit yourself completely. I couldn't be happier, really, because this means that when we finally _are_ together—"

"If," she interrupted.

"_When_," he insisted. "When we finally are together you'll be willing to share your life with me in every way. I won't settle for being just a school boyfriend, and if that's all you had wanted to give me then _I_ would've been the one turning _you_ down last night."

Ginny didn't quite know what to say after that remarkable declaration, so she remained silent. After a moment Harry asked, "What's in the vial?"

It was now or never. "A potion," she said. "Mórrígan gave it to me. She said we should each drink half, and it would contain our link until we figure out how to control it."

"It sounds wonderful." Harry couldn't hide the relief in his voice. He would return to his usual self, fully in control of his emotions.

"Yeah." Ginny's voice was utterly unenthusiastic.

"Well?" Harry prompted. "Shall we?"

Ginny hesitated a moment more, and then removed the stopper and gulped down half of the potion. It had no flavor. Her hand shook a bit as she passed the container to Harry, who drained it. The piece of Harry that she carried within her, the part that connected them, began to separate from the rest of her being. She could actually feel the Otherworldly magic in the potion blockade the link off from the rest of her soul. Ginny knew she could get around the block if she desired, but when not in use the link would remain dormant.

Beside her, Harry breathed a sigh of relief and rested his head back against the wall. Ginny returned to picking at the carpet threads. "I understand if…" she started, and then paused and began again. "I understand if you want to take back anything you said just now, or last night."

Harry glanced over at her. For the first time since they sat, Ginny met his eyes. She looked miserable. "Why would I want to do that?" he asked.

"Because it wasn't real," she answered. "The link…created feelings that weren't really there. I understand and you're in no way required to stand by all the things you told me."

"Wait. Start over. The link did what?"

"Dumbledore said that the strong feelings inspired by the link would decrease once we had it under control. It's okay, Harry." By the look on her face, it definitely was not okay. "It was just the magic that made you think that we, I mean, that you…" she trailed off and turned her full attention back to the carpet threads.

"No," Harry said. "It's nothing like that. I meant everything I said yesterday."

"I know," Ginny answered quietly. "But if you don't mean it anymore, that's all right."

"Gin, I started feeling this way about you long before the link was opened up." She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and he continued, "Granted, it probably sped things up a bit, but we would've come to this point eventually anyway. My feelings for you are the same, although my feelings toward Fletcher certainly aren't."

"Mike?" Ginny asked. "Why? What's different about Mike?"

"Well," Harry said with a rueful smile, "I don't want to break his nose anymore."

Ginny couldn't stifle a giggle. "No doubt he'll be happy to hear that." 

The anxiety that had twisted her stomach just a few moments ago was alleviated when Harry pressed a kiss to her temple. "My heart isn't going to change," he murmured against her hair. Harry wanted to shout with joy. She had been unhappy at the thought that his love wasn't real. This was definitely an encouraging sign. He contained his delight, though. This wasn't the time. "Is there anything you need? Anything I can do for you?"

She leaned against him for a moment, and then pulled away. "I need to be alone for a bit. I have to think," she said.

"Okay." He stood, and held out a hand to help her to her feet. "This will probably help, if you're not going back to Gryffindor right away." He pulled out a bit of old parchment.

She turned it over. It was the Marauders' Map. "How did you get this?"

"I pocketed it when you spilled your tea," he said. "It's really mine, isn't it? Since my father made it."

"Thanks." She was touched. "I'll return it tomorrow."

He nodded. They faced each other awkwardly, neither one knowing how to end the conversation. Finally, Harry cleared his throat and said, "If you ever need me, you only have to ask."

"I know," Ginny answered.

"I'll see you in the morning."

She gave him a tentative smile, and he smiled back, turned, and left in the direction of Gryffindor tower.

*****

Ginny wandered aimlessly around the school for about half an hour, carefully avoiding the dots on the map that read "Argus Filch," "Mrs. Norris," and "Severus Snape," all three of whom were prowling the halls. She wondered when they ever had time to sleep, and figured that explained why Filch and Snape were always so belligerent during the day.

After a bit, she found herself down the Charms corridor. On an impulse, Ginny opened the door to Professor Flitwick's classroom and stole inside. The moon illuminated the room with a robust glow, but Ginny still pulled out a wand and lit a single candle. If she really was the Pendragon, then she should be able to do wandless magic. Dumbledore had said so. And if she couldn't, well, then there must have been some kind of mistake.

Ginny rifled through the cabinet until she found what she was looking for: the bag of feathers the first years used to practice levitation charms. Starting small was her best bet. She probably wouldn't be able to transfigure a hedgehog into a pincushion on her first try.

Ginny moved the candle and the feather to a desk against the far wall. She didn't want anyone to spot the light from under the door. She placed the feather on the desk and thought to herself, _Wingardium Leviosa_. It didn't budge. She frowned at it, and then tried again. Still nothing.

Ginny decided to try the charm with her wand, just to make sure she knew how it went. She whispered the magic words and in the blink of an eye the feather was dancing in the air. Well, all right. At least she remembered how to do it properly. But how to perform the spell without a wand?

Ginny thought hard. It seemed an awfully big leap to her, to go from doing a charm with the help of a wand and magic words to doing it without any magical aids at all. Perhaps it would be easier if she removed the external magical elements by increments until she was performing the spell all by herself. First thing to go: the wand.

Ginny set her wand down on the floor and eyed the feather. "_Wingardium Leviosa_," she said. It sat motionless on the desk. Maybe she needed a step somewhere between wand and no wand. Ginny waved her hand over the feather and said the magic words again. Still nothing. Five tries later, though, she got the feather to stir a bit, and ten tries later she got it to hover a few inches over the desk. Ginny stared at her hand, which had taken on a faint silver sheen. The moment she shifted her concentration off of the feather, it dropped.

Ginny practiced with her hand until she got the feather to float around the room. It was exhausting work. Her brow was sweaty with concentration and she had a pounding headache, but she wasn't about to stop now. She was fully invested in the feather project, and she probably wouldn't even have noticed if Snape or Filch barged into the classroom.

When she was satisfied that she could do the charm with the words and a wave of her hand, Ginny decided to try it without the incantation. She waved her hand over the feather, and wasn't surprised when it didn't move. After an hour of practice, though, she finally made the feather tremble and lift an infinitesimal distance from the desk. This was definite progress.

Finally, Ginny felt she was ready to attempt the charm with nothing but her mind. She sat on her hands so she wouldn't be tempted to use them, and _willed_ the feather to lift off the desk. Naturally, it didn't. But she didn't give up, and forty-five minutes later it was whizzing through the air. Ginny grinned in triumph, but her smile abruptly vanished when it dawned on her that she had just made something fly merely through the force of her mind. The feather dropped to the floor as she realized with horror that Dumbledore had been correct. She _was_ the Pendragon. 

*****

__

Ginny found herself outside a city that was closed off by a wall of staggering height. She could hear the shouts and laughter of the people on the other side of the wall, but where she was standing there wasn't anyone in sight. She turned in a full circle, instinctively looking for Mórrígan. The goddess wasn't there. So Ginny waited. After a moment, a hand dropped on her shoulder. She looked at the long fingers encrusted with rubies that stood out against her black school robes, and turned. The Mórrígan stood behind her, seven feet tall, once again the warrior mother. Ginny took a step back and said, "I suppose you're expecting a thank you."

"I beg your pardon?" the goddess replied. "You refused to figure it out on your own, so I arranged for your protector to find you just as your power was unleashed. The old man explained it all, and you are no longer in the dark about your destiny. It would have been better if you had discovered it yourself, but what's done is done."

"I don't want_ a destiny," Ginny told her._

"What you want or don't want is irrelevant," Mórrígan snapped. "The fact is, you have one and it's your responsibility to see that it's fulfilled."

Ginny felt her self-control slip away. "I was happy_ until you showed up!" she shouted. "You've done nothing but torture and intimidate me for the past three months, and I won't have it anymore. Who gave you permission to interfere with my life?"_

Mórrígan swung, and Ginny instinctively grabbed the goddess's wrist before her palm could strike Ginny's face. Their gazes clashed. Ginny's power shimmered. The goddess's wrist was cool against her hand. The fiery pain that had always before accompanied skin contact was not present now. Mórrígan's lips curved up in a half-smile. "Very good, Virginia," she said. "Fight me at every turn. It's the only thing that will make you strong."

Ginny jerked away and stumbled back. "It didn't hurt," she said, staring at her hand. "It should have hurt."

"You're going to have to control the power inside of you," Mórrígan said. "It won't do to have it leaking out every time you're angry."

"Why didn't I feel anything?" she demanded.

"Your power is of the Otherworld, even if you are not. I imagine it cushioned you against the pain that you would've felt even yesterday." She regarded Ginny for a moment and then said, "Come with me," and walked toward the city gate. Ginny followed.

Inside, the town was in the middle of market day. The people bartered and exchanged for the goods they needed and the clink of coins rang though the air. Ginny was acutely conscious of people's eyes turning their way as they cleared the city entrance. Although business transactions did not cease, everyone stared at Mórrígan and Ginny as they made their way through the crowd. Many removed their hats in a sign of respect. "You must not come here very often," Ginny said. "Some people are even bowing."

Mórrígan glanced over her shoulder and regarded Ginny with amusement. "They're not bowing to me, Virginia."

They stopped at the cart of a man who was selling medicines and Mórrígan selected a small container of salve. "For your hand," she said. Only then did Ginny remember that her right hand hadn't been fixed up after the Doxy bite, and was still bandaged with the bottom of Harry's robes. She pulled the fabric off and allowed the goddess to treat the puncture wounds. The injury vanished instantly upon contact with the Otherworldly potion. "It also neutralizes the venom," Mórrígan said.

Suddenly, the walled city vanished, and Ginny and Mórrígan stood alone in the middle of a forest; the trees so high Ginny couldn't even make out the leaf line. Ginny gasped and Mórrígan eyed her sternly. "You were unwilling to let your protector drink the potion I gave you."

Ginny hesitated, and then nodded reluctantly. "Why?" the goddess pressed. Ginny didn't reply and Mórrígan looked frustrated. "If you don't answer, I can always pull the information I seek out of your head, which will hurt you far more than it hurts me." Still Ginny didn't respond; her feelings for Harry were none of the goddess's business. Mórrígan's eyes took on an unpleasant light and a blinding pain exploded in Ginny's head. She felt the goddess rifle through her thoughts until she found what she was looking for. The pain suddenly ended.

"Why are you looking at me that way?" Mórrígan asked. "You knew I could read your mind if I so wished."

"You were more gentle about it last time. I didn't feel a thing."

The goddess laughed cruelly. "I was younger yesterday. I liked you better then." Her smile faded. "You didn't want to give him the potion because you were afraid. This fear can not continue."

"What fear?" Ginny asked. "I'm not afraid anymore. He drank the potion, and everything is fine."

"Still, you have fear within you. You're afraid of the future, of losing yourself to your destiny, and you're afraid of this Voldemort who conquers more of your world every day."

"Everyone feels that way sometimes."

"You can't afford the luxury of fear," Mórrígan said urgently. "If you're afraid, then you can be controlled and above all things, that must not_ happen."_

"Not by anyone but you?" Ginny asked sarcastically.

"No," Mórrígan said. "Not even by me. You have made tremendous progress in that area. The first time we met you could barely look me in the eyes; you were so terrified. Yet outside the city today you physically prevented me from causing you harm. You no longer feel the fear for me that you once did, but you still fear much and that is unacceptable."

"I can't change the way I feel to please you."

Mórrígan did not respond to Ginny's statement. Instead, she said, "You have much work before you. You must not hesitate to do what is necessary. But now it is time for you to go back."

*****

Ginny ran into Ancient Runes frantically adjusting her uniform. She'd thrown some clothes on in a rush this morning, not noticing if they were neat or proper, or even the right set of robes. Her hair hung in a damp ponytail beneath her lopsided hat; there hadn't been time to dry it. Ginny was sure Gwen would faint at the sight of her; Gwen wasn't one to let sloppy dressing slide, even if there was a good excuse. She was starved from having missed breakfast, had a cramp in her neck from falling asleep with her head on a desk in the Charms classroom, and was exhausted, both mentally and emotionally, from all of the turmoil of the past three days. Moreover, the wandless magic from the night before had drained every molecule of energy in her. All she wanted to do was sleep.

She was waylaid the moment she entered the room. "Where have you been?" Gwen demanded. With a glance, she took in Ginny's rumpled clothing and immediately set about fastening the clasps of her robes, which had hung open over Ginny's uniform.

"In the hospital wing," Ginny answered. "Why? Where did you think I was?"

"I had no idea. Ria told us you ran inside and didn't come back! Are you all right?"

"Madame Pomfrey wanted to make sure the Doxy anti-venom worked properly. She kept me for observation." Ginny had rehearsed this lie during her quick shower, so it came out smoothly.

"Why didn't you show up at breakfast?"

Ginny forced her mouth into a smile and slid into the desk between Gwen and Mike Fletcher. "Would you believe I overslept? By the time I got back to the dorm, you three were already gone." Gwen gave her a sympathetic look and rummaged through her bag for a quill. 

"Morning, Ginny," Mike said. "Can I have some parchment? I forgot mine."

"You'd forget your head if it wasn't attached," Ginny said.

He laughed. "So your mum is always telling me. What about it? Do you have any extra?"

"Yeah." She slid her bag over to him. "Help yourself."

Losing points for a dress code violation was the last thing she needed right now, so Ginny did her best to knot her tie without the aid of a mirror. Mike rummaged through her satchel and pulled out a sheet of scrap. "This'll do. Oh, no, wait. It has writing on it." Mike paused as his eyes flicked over the short note and his smile faded slightly. He held it up to Ginny and raised his eyebrows. She groaned. It was Harry's note from two days ago, asking, no, _telling_ her to meet him in the Astronomy Tower. "The truth is revealed," Mike said slyly. "This certainly explains why you're running behind this morning. Out late last night with Gryffindor's most eligible bachelor, were you?"

She snatched the note out of his hands and crumpled it up. Professor Montegue was late, as usual, so Ginny couldn't count on being saved by the start of class. "It wasn't any big thing," she muttered.

"Of course not," Mike said. "That would explain why your face is completely blush free. I'm sure your cheeks are usually the same color as your hair, so your current appearance is nothing out of the ordinary."

"Are you going to borrow a parchment or not?"

He pulled a sheet out of her bag. "The Astronomy Tower, Gin? Really, I'm disappointed. It's just so…_usual_. Do you two go there often?"

"No, just the one time."

"What did he want?"

She looked at Mike with a mischievous grin. "What do you _think_ he wanted?" 

"I think you should forget I asked. The answer would probably make my head explode."

"He wanted to tell me that you're nothing but trouble."

Mike laughed loudly, and a Hufflepuff in the front row turned to look, then rolled her eyes and went back to whispering with her friends. "Really?" Mike asked. He sounded thrilled.

"No," Ginny answered, "but I had you going for a minute."

He opened his mouth to reply, but Professor Montegue swept into the room and announced, "Close your books, class. Pop quiz today." Ginny never found out what Mike was going to say.

*****

After a full morning of classes, the lunch bell finally rang. Mike ran out of the Transfiguration classroom and headed straight for the library. There was a book he needed for Divination homework that night, and he wanted to check it out before he ate.

As Mike entered the library, he scanned the rows of shelves. Hogwarts was without any kind of organized filing system, a fact that was the bane of his existence. Life would be so much easier if Madame Pince would only keep a card catalogue like the muggles did. He knew the general area of the volume, at least, so he headed off to the corner where most of the titles on predicting the future were shelved.

Mike rounded the far end of a shelf and ran smack into Harry, who balanced about ten thick volumes in his arms. "Steady on," Mike said, catching a few that toppled off the pile. "Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

"Lunch," Harry replied from the other side of the stack. He shifted the books and saw for the first time who he had run into. "Sorry about that. I can't see where I'm going around these things."

"Not your fault," Mike said, dropping the volumes he was holding on top of Harry's pile. The Gryffindor grunted at the extra weight and shifted his arms around to get a better grip. Mike leaned against the shelf, nonchalantly blocking Harry's way to the checkout desk. "Happens to the best of us."

"I'm just a bit out of sorts this morning is all," Harry explained. "Could you excuse me?"

Mike ignored Harry's request. "Completely understandable," he said. "I know I'm always out of sorts when I'm short on sleep."

"Pardon?" Harry shifted his arms again, and the stack of books tilted precariously. "Actually, I _am_ a bit tired today."

"No doubt from your stargazing the other night."

Harry lost his grip and the pile crashed to the floor. He gave Mike an incredulous look. "Sorry?"

"I'm not, actually, but thanks for asking. So," Mike surveyed the mess of volumes but made no move to help pick them up. "What are you reading?" He turned a few books over with his foot so that the covers faced up. "_Celtic Prophecies: A Complete History_? _The Pendragon Returns?_ Potter, this all looks very boring."

Harry gave Mike an odd look. Although very little of the hostility from the past few days remained, there was no offer of friendship in his gaze. He might not hate Mike anymore, but he certainly did not like him. "It's for extra credit," was Harry's only explanation.

"No doubt you need all the help you can get," Mike muttered. Then, louder, he said, "Well, I have a book to find, and you don't want to miss lunch."

"Wait," Harry said. "What did you say?"

Mike gestured to the books on the floor. "I'm not surprised you're trolling for extra credit. From what I gather, Divination is hardly your strongest subject."

Harry nodded slowly, and in the blink of an eye his wand was in his hand. "Just wanted to make sure I hadn't misheard."

Mike rolled his eyes. "Going to curse me now? At some point or other everyone in the school has heard you and Ron complaining about how Divination is bollocks. Is it really such a stretch for me to assume you're not Trelawney's pet student?"

Harry and Mike stared each other down, and then Harry slowly tucked his wand away. "That's better," Mike said. "You really should get some sleep, Potter. You look terrible." He stepped over the pile of books and rounded the corner, purposely jostling Harry's shoulder as he did so.

Harry almost went after the Ravenclaw, but Hermione's voice echoed in his head. Whenever he or Ron fought with Malfoy, she always lectured them afterwards about how it wasn't worth the loss in house points. Harry figured that just this once, since Mike was Ginny's friend, he could take Hermione's advice. He gathered his books from the floor and staggered to the checkout desk. A pair of wide gray eyes peeked around the shelf and watched him go.

*****

Draco dropped off an overdue book and, on his way out, scanned the library for anyone he knew. He spotted Dana Silvermoon sitting by herself, scribbling on a piece of parchment and detoured to talk to her. After all, it was midday and he hadn't yet picked a single fight. As he neared the table, however, Draco noticed in puzzlement that the she wore a Ravenclaw crest on her school robes. He glanced up just in time to see a second Silvermoon, her crest Slytherin green, emerge from the stacks toting an armful of spell books. She scowled when she saw him. "What are _you_ doing here?"

He smirked and gestured to the Ravenclaw, who finally looked up from her notes. "Aren't you going to introduce me, Silvermoon?" Draco asked. "Where are your manners?"

Dana rolled her eyes and said, "Delia, this is Draco Malfoy, son and heir of the most notorious Death Eater ever to talk his way out of Azkaban. Malfoy, Delia Silvermoon, bookworm and bitch goddess."

Dana sincerely hoped her sister would not embarrass her in front of Malfoy. All the Slytherin girls and half the ones from other houses turned into giggling puddles of drool whenever he came around. To her relief, Delia merely glanced up and gave him a nod of acknowledgement. Dana should have known better; Delia very rarely giggled, and wasn't likely to start just because Draco Malfoy was standing in front of her. Although Delia didn't seem inclined to strike up a friendship, she didn't seem to find him repulsive, as Dana did. But, then, Dana was in the vast minority when it came to her opinion of Draco Malfoy.

Dana dumped her armload of books on the table beside her sister. "There. I've done my part for your project, and now I'm leaving."

Delia frowned at her twin. "I'd appreciate if you would stay and go through some of these. I'm doing this just as much for you as I am for me."

"No," Dana said. "It's a waste of time and I'm hungry. You and Malfoy are a couple of like-minded individuals. No doubt he'll be thrilled to help with your bizarre quest."

Once Dana was out of earshot, Draco scanned the titles on the spines of the books and asked idly, "What are you working on?"

Delia flipped through one of the volumes Dana found. "I'm looking for spells to help me find my birth parents."

It figured that Silvermoon's twin would be a sentimental mudblood. He sneered, "Why?"

She looked up at him, her face set in determination. "They were pureblood wizards. I just know it. And I'm going to prove it."

Well, that was an entirely different matter. "Oh?" he asked, sitting down and pulling a book off the stack. He gave her an encouraging glance and began flipping through the pages. After a few minutes, he decided to test the waters. Draco watched Delia carefully as he asked, "So, what do you think of your sister going around with Seamus Finnigan?"

Delia shrugged and, without looking up from her book said, "I can't fault her for good taste."

"Good taste? A Gryffindor?"

"Oh, come on. Some of them aren't bad at all. Like Harry Potter, for instance."

Draco looked at her incredulously, and she glanced up from her book, a sly smile playing around the corner of her mouth. He realized with astonishment that she was teasing him. He didn't think he'd ever been teased before. No one had dared. He decided to call her bluff. "Potter? He's right over there," Draco said, inclining his head towards the checkout desk. "Want me to introduce you? We go way back."

Delia gave him a sarcastic look. "Oh, would you?" she asked in a falsetto. "He's just so good and brave and true and rich and," she sighed dramatically, "_perfect_." She made a disgusted noise and returned to her book.

"You forgot handsome," he offered.

She turned a page. "No I didn't."

Draco couldn't help but be intrigued. She had definite possibilities. And Draco never missed a chance to exploit possibilities.

*****

Dana spotted a red ponytail in the middle of the crowd heading to the Great Hall and threaded her way through the mess of students until she was right behind Ginny. She tapped the Gryffindor on the shoulder and said, "I have to talk to you about something."

Ginny looked surprised to see her, but she managed a friendly smile. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," Dana said quickly. "Come on." She took Ginny's arm and pulled her into a hallway that branched off from the entrance hall. She led the older girl into an empty classroom and closed the door. "I'm glad I caught you before lunch."

Ginny frowned. "Dana, is everything okay?"

"I don't know," she said. "Just now, Mike and Harry had an almost-fight in the library."

"How do you know?"

"I was finding some books for my sister and they were in the next aisle over."

"Oh," Ginny said, giving Dana an odd look. "Well, those two don't like each other very much."

"I just wanted to let you know before it got back to you from someone who wasn't even there, especially considering the way Harry almost took Mike's head off at the Ball."

Ginny sighed. Of all things she _didn't_ feel like doing today, smoothing out Mike and Harry's ruffled feathers was at the top of the list. "All right, what were they fighting about?"

"I couldn't really tell," Dana said. "It was all kind of weird. Mike said Harry was bad at Divination and Harry pulled his wand, but Harry was just tired from Astronomy class, so…"

"Astronomy class?" Ginny interrupted.

"Well, Harry said he was tired and Mike said it was probably from stargazing late at night, and then they started talking about Divination and Harry—"

"And Harry pulled his wand." Ginny was not amused.

"Yeah. Anyway, I just thought you should know."

"Thanks. I appreciate it."

Dana nodded, and opened the door to the hallway. "Come on, then. I'm starving."

"So am I," Ginny agreed. "It's been a long morning."

*****

At the Gryffindor table, Ginny dropped into a seat between Shannon and Gwen, across from Ria. "Let me see your hand," were the first words out of Ria's mouth. Ginny extended her arm, palm up. Ria examined Ginny's finger and said, "By your reaction last night, I thought the Doxy had amputated something."

Ginny shook her head. "Apparently the sight of blood makes me squeamish. Who knew?"

She spooned some food on her plate as the other three compared gossip of morning classes. A few seats away, Ron and Hermione were having a heated discussion. Ginny tuned her friends out and eavesdropped.

"Hermione, that chapter isn't even going to be on the test! Why would I ever need to know how to transfigure a football into a flamingo?" Ron complained.

"I was just pointing out that you haven't done any of your reading, and the exam is in two hours. Excuse me for being concerned that you're going to fail."

Ginny thought for a moment. In two hours, she would be in History of Magic. This would be a golden opportunity to teach Harry a lesson that he would remember the next time he wanted to fight with Mike about something as stupid as Divination.

*****

Ginny stared out the window in Professor Binns's classroom. She was the only student in the room who wasn't unconscious. But, then, she was on a mission. Ginny gently probed around the block in the link and realized that all she had to do to communicate with Harry was want to do so. She left the link open a little, just enough to keep tabs on when it was his turn to Transfigure something, but not enough that he would realize she was spying.

When he got up and walked to the front of the class she said, _Harry, I need to talk to you._

He was almost to Professor McGonagall's desk. _Not now, Gin. I'm kind of busy._

What happened in the library today with you and Mike?

Harry clutched his wand. _I said not now. I have to concentrate._

__

Oh. I'm in History of Magic. It's so boring. Shannon is sound asleep. She snores sometimes, you know. Wouldn't it be funny if she snored right now? I wonder if Binns would even notice.

Harry stared at his football and tried focus, but Ginny wouldn't stop talking. _Ginny!_ he exclaimed. _I'm right in the middle of transfiguring—_

A football into a flamingo? she interrupted.

__

Yes.

She laughed. _Good luck, Harry. You know, just today in Transfiguration Colin told me a funny story…._

Professor McGonagall gave Harry an strange look and said, "What are you waiting for, Potter? I don't have all day."

As Ginny chattered away, Harry gritted his teeth and racked his brain for the incantation. Unfortunately, at the moment his mind housed one more person than usual, so the spell wasn't forthcoming. Harry took a wild guess and waved his wand. The football turned bright pink and sprouted long, spindly legs but otherwise remained unchanged. "Seventy percent, Potter. You may have a seat. Thomas, your turn."

Harry returned to his desk. _Is the test over?_ Ginny asked. _All right, then. I'll just say goodbye. See you later_!

*****

After class, Harry approached Professor McGonagall's desk and said, "Can I talk to you about my score?"

"Your football was seventy percent transfigured, so I gave you a seventy percent, Potter. I don't see what there is to discuss." She sorted through papers and didn't look up at him.

Harry swallowed, and then pressed on. "I was wondering if I could retake the exam tomorrow." McGonagall looked up at him, and the words came tumbling out in a rush. "I was up late last night, so I had trouble concentrating today."

She _tsk_ed. "I can't give you a retake just because you didn't get to bed early."

"No, it's not that," Harry said. "I was with the Headmaster until about one thirty, so—"

In a flash, McGonagall's entire demeanor changed. Her face softened, and her eyes reflected concern. "In that case, you don't have to explain, Potter. I understand. These are difficult times for everyone. Of course you may retake the test tomorrow."

He gave her a relieved smile, slung his bag over his shoulder and headed for the door. As soon as he was in the hallway, though, his smile faded. When he finally found Ginny, it was _not_ going to be a pleasant scene.

*****

That night, Ginny sat again in the deserted Charms classroom. She spent an hour making the feather levitate, and then she moved on to a bit of Transfiguration. Ginny concentrated on the matchstick and tried to visualize it turning into a needle. The stick vibrated; she knew she was close. But, her concentration was broken by someone slamming the door. She looked up and saw Harry, who was extremely annoyed.

"What did you think you were doing?" he asked. "I was in the middle of a _test_."

"I know," she said. "It's not like there's any permanent damage. I'm sure McGonagall was understanding."

"You could've really ruined my grade."

She toyed with the matchstick. "Come on, Harry. You asked for a retake the moment class was over and she gave it to you. No harm, no foul."

"How did you know I would even ask?"

She smiled. "That moment on the common room floor, remember? You thought I was the only one whose twisted inner workings were revealed?"

Strangely, Harry was not disturbed by this statement. He figured that if there had to be someone who knew the ins and outs of every aspect of his character, he was glad it was Ginny. And it seemed that she was developing a sense of humor about their link, for which he was grateful.

"I heard you were a prat in the library today," Ginny said.

"He was rude."

"I'm sure. He tends to be. But that's not an excuse for pulling your wand on him."

"Gin, he implied that I was bad at Divination."

"You _are_ bad at Divination."

He sat in the desk next to hers. "Maybe I don't want it publicized all over the school."

"Sorry to tell you, but it's a bit late for that." He made a face, and she continued, "It's tremendously reassuring, you know. To hear that famous Harry Potter isn't perfect."

"I bet. What are you doing in here?"

She put the matchstick down and pulled out the feather. "Watch this." She didn't even have to say the charm in her mind anymore; the feather levitated when she willed it.

Harry watched it float around the room and then gently land in front of him. "Wow."

"Wow is right. I spent all last night figuring out how to do that."

He twirled the feather between his fingers and nodded towards the matchstick. "Turning it into a needle?"

"I have to start somewhere. There's no way I'd be able to do anything as fancy as changing a football into a flamingo."

"It's much harder than it sounds," he said. "You'll probably have to hold off on that one for a while."

"Thanks for the advice."

Harry cleared his throat. "Gin, about our link. You said the potion is temporary?"

"That's what Mórrígan told me."

"How temporary, exactly?"

She thought for a moment, but couldn't recall Mórrígan saying anything about a time period. "I'm not sure, Harry. Why?"

"It's just that we'll have to figure out how to control it ourselves, so that when the potion wears off we're not right back where we started."

She nodded, and fixed her attention back on the stick. Without even thinking about it, Ginny levitated the match off the desk and looped it in small figure eights. Harry grabbed it out of the air. "Hey!" she exclaimed.

"Sorry. I can't concentrate when you're doing that. About practicing?"

"Do you want to start tomorrow?" she asked. "We can meet right here after dinner."

He nodded. "That's fine."

"All right." She plucked the match out of his fingers. "I'll see you then. I have to get back to this."

Harry said goodbye, but she was already lost in concentration. 

When Harry reached the door, he turned back to look at her. The single candle glinted off the red-gold of her hair, turning it into shimmering sunlight. Her face was creased with concentration, and she looked very small and alone, sitting in a small pool of firelight in a corner of the cavernous classroom. Harry gently shut the door and headed back to Gryffindor tower.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

This chapter was the hardest yet to write. Please be a responsible reader and leave me some feedback. The more you write to me, the faster I write for you.

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And now the list of honor [22 reviews for this chapter! You guys are my heroes]:

On ffn—Silvestria [Sorry I haven't finished reviewing your fic. I got overwhelmed at school and haven't had a chance to go back to it yet. I promise I'll read it, though, once things calm down a bit]; Changeling; Ginnybear; Gwyneth; Gina Potter; Ara Willow; and Mary Potter. Thanks for reading!

On schnoogle—Love Gordon, Petrie, KobeG, and Gwyneth all reviewed Chapter 5. Mim reviewed Chapter 4. Jonathan Dupont and karei wrote reviews for all of the chapters, and LissanneJ reviewed the prologue. Thanks for your feedback!

By email—Becky, Lissanne, Lydia, Laura, Ginnybear, Andi Sunrider, and Kiara. Your emails made my day. Or days, since they didn't all arrive at once.

Hey, everybody. Don't hesitate to drop me a note at irina@schnoogle.com and let me know what you think. I always write back. Just ask these guys.

Incidentally, since I know you're all wondering, Kiara was the winner of my read-the-chapter-early contest. Let's all give Kiara a big round of applause! 

Next time—Ginny manifests some more wacky powers, Snape starts to clue in that something strange is going on, and best of all, the return of Sirius Black!


	8. The Prince

Title: The Rebirth—Chapter 7 "The Prince"

Author name: Irina  
Author email: Irina@schnoogle.com

Category: drama, romance  
Keywords: Ginny, destiny, angst, romance, drama  
Spoilers: All four books  
Rating: PG-13

Summary: So why _did_ Voldemort try to kill Harry? An ancient power has reawakened and the answers to all the mysteries lie with Ginny Weasley.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. There's a scene in here where I reference some of the teachings of the _Dhammapada_. The book Ginny reads out loud is _The Prince_ by Niccolò Machiavelli, chapter 17, "Of Cruelty and Clemency, and Whether It Is Better to Be Loved or Feared."

Author's Note: Thanks as always to Danette and DRI who, along with being radiantly lovely, are also superlative beta readers. Thanks to Gokuh4060 for emulating Silent Bob's best qualities. Thanks to karei for her input on Dumbledore and for plugging me in the latest chapter of her fic. Thanks to all of my wonderful muses on the HP Pendragon mailing list. If you want to join their number, point your browser to groups.yahoo.com/group/HPPendragon and click on "Join." There are cookies in it for you. I'd love to see everyone there! And don't forget to review after you're done reading. Reviews are what keep this story going. The more you write to me, the faster I write for you. :-) And now, on with the show!

****

Chapter 7

The Prince

December 1, 1997

The dungeon was cold and damp. Ginny didn't think that holding class in a room where the students could see their breath was a very healthy thing to do. She was tired enough lately from teaching herself wandless magic every night and practicing with Harry and their link twice a week. Freezing to death wasn't going to make her feel any better. Even though Professor Snape hadn't yet arrived, many students were already starting fires underneath their cauldrons and warming their hands in the meager heat of the flames.

Snape swept into the room, strongly reminding Ginny of a large, freaky bat. He looked haggard this afternoon; he was paler than usual and had dark circles under his eyes, which were red with exhaustion. Ginny wondered what he had done over the weekend, whether it had anything to do with Alastor Moody, who was still missing, and what Dumbledore could've been thinking, sending Snape on a potentially dangerous mission when it was obvious the man needed a few days of sleep and a good meal. The professor distractedly rubbed his left forearm through his robes as he surveyed the room. Ginny didn't think he was really seeing them. She wondered if she should mention something to Dumbledore, suggest that he should give Snape a few days off, and then questioned why she cared so much. Snape had certainly never been pleasant to her—apparently having hair in that particular shade of Weasley red was all it took to earn his everlasting animosity. He would never spare her a second thought, so she really shouldn't worry about him. He was a grown man, and if he was having trouble keeping his head above water then it was his responsibility to say something to the Headmaster.

Ginny snapped out of her reverie when she noticed half the class rise and walk over to the storage cabinets. She leaned over to Ria and asked, "What are we doing?"

Ria looked up from her parchment, where she had been writing "RJ + DT" in the margins, and shrugged. "I wasn't listening. I thought you were."

Ginny said, "Between the two of us we should be able to figure it out. I'll just give you and Dean a moment alone, shall I?" She grinned at Ria's indignant expression and joined the back of the queue for ingredients.

When Ginny finally got to the front of the line, she stared for a moment at the contents of the student store cupboard. She had no idea what she was supposed to get. "Were we daydreaming when Snape gave the instructions?" someone said in her ear.

She recognized Mike's voice and didn't turn around. "Maybe. Do you have any information you want to share?"

He put his hands on her shoulders and began to rub. She couldn't hold back a sigh. It felt wonderful; she had been stressed lately and a neck massage was most definitely a welcome treat. He dropped his head until his cheek was right against hers, and looked over her shoulder into the cabinet. "You're very tense. You always look so tired lately. Is everything all right?" His thumbs revolved in gentle pressure against her upper back.

"Classes are difficult this year," Ginny said, hoping he wouldn't notice that she hadn't answered his question.

Mike was silent for a moment. Then he cleared his throat and asked quickly, "Do you like surprises?"

"Doesn't everyone?"

He gave a soft laugh and glanced over to make sure Snape wasn't paying them any attention. "I don't. But since you do, meet me in the entrance hall tomorrow night at nine o'clock."

"Why?"

He took his hands off her shoulders. "It's a _surprise_, Gin. Haven't you been paying attention? And, if I were you, I'd pick ingredients that will make a Soothing Solution."

"Is that because it's the assignment or because you think I need one?"

He laughed again. "Both."

She selected the proper items and looked at him for the first time during the entire exchange as she turned to go back to her seat. He grinned broadly, and she smiled back. His cheerfulness was contagious; she couldn't understand how someone could be so confident all the time, but Mike seemed to have discovered the secret.

*****

Dana stared listlessly out the window. She hated History of Magic. She hated boring Professor Binns, the boring textbook, and the boring Ravenclaws who filled reams of parchment with notes and stared at the teacher with boringly false eagerness. They were all so transparent. Binns never noticed if a student kissed up or not; he didn't even know their names. Her gaze played across the Ravenclaw side of the room; classes Slytherins shared with other houses were always strictly segregated. None of the Ravenclaws would've dreamed of sitting on the Slytherin side. When they weren't taking their pointless notes, they were casting suspicious glances toward the students with green crests on their robes.

Delia caught Dana daydreaming and shot her a censorious glare. Delia gestured with her head toward the Professor and Dana sighed inwardly. Her perfect sister's mind _never_ wandered in class. Dana turned her attention to the ghost at the front of the room and realized that he was explaining the research project that would be due at the end of winter term. Dana sat up a little straighter and listened carefully; she might not ever pay attention to lectures, but this assignment would count for a large part of her grade.

Professor Binns droned on, "The project will be done in groups of two. I want you all to pair up and then one person from each group will come to the front and choose a topic out of the dish." He gestured to a bowl on the desk that held several folded-up pieces of paper. "Choose your partners carefully, because this project will count for forty percent of your final grade. Once your research has been conducted, each group is to hand in three feet of parchment on their discoveries and then we will hear oral presentations on each topic."

Professor Binns was extremely indignant at having to give this project. He told Minerva that he had been teaching this subject for close on seventy years and his pupils had never complained about his homework assignments, but she had insisted that Hogwarts students' performance on History of Magic O.W.L.'s and N.E.W.T.'s were woefully subpar. Then she actually had the audacity to present him with a list of paper topics, not _one_ of which dealt with goblin rebellions.

Dana glanced around the room. The six Slytherin boys immediately paired off with each other. Tinamyia Cherrydale and Portia Parkinson both cast her hopeful looks; they had argued with each other a few days ago and still weren't speaking. Dana didn't particularly trust either of them with forty percent of her grade, especially because she knew she'd wind up doing most of the work.

Across the room, the Ravenclaws had all partnered up. Delia sat alone, the odd one out, trying very hard to look as though she didn't care. "Dana," Portia began, but Dana cut her off.

"I'm working with my sister," she said, gathering her things. "I'll see you two after class, all right?" She moved to the Ravenclaw side of the room without waiting for a response.

Dana slid into the desk next to her twin and asked, "Do you need a partner?"

Delia gave her a scathing look. "Do you need to rub it in? This is humiliating enough, having to pair with a Slytherin."

Dana ignored the insult to her house and said mildly, "Maybe if you'd act like a human being once in a while somebody from your own house wouldn't mind working with you. As it is, you're stuck with me." She glanced over to her dorm mates who were bickering heatedly. "Although I'm sure Tinamyia Cherrydale wouldn't mind coming over here, if you'd rather."

Delia eyed Tinamyia and made a face. "Cherrydale? Is she the one with hair like a fright wig?"

"She has a problem with humidity." Dana tried not to laugh.

Delia shuddered. "She's insufferably dim. I'll make do with you, I suppose."

"Thanks so much," Dana said sarcastically. "I'll just go pick a topic then."

She got to the front of the room, drew a slip out of the dish, and unfolded it. It read: _Research and analyze the Druidic magical practices (The Old Ways). How have they transformed into the magic we use today? Discuss in terms of power, ritual, and nature._

Dana rejoined her sister and handed her the assignment slip. Delia was exasperated. "Honestly, Day, couldn't you have picked something a little less boring?" She gestured with her head toward a pair of Ravenclaw boys. "_They_ drew an analysis of how muggle politics aided the rise of Grindelwald."

"Then why don't you ask to trade?" Dana suggested. She was determined to not let Delia get to her, and reminded herself that if she didn't work with her sister she'd be stuck with Portia or Tinamyia. At least this way she was guaranteed a good grade. Delia's marks were never less than superb, as their parents were always saying.

Delia went to every group of Ravenclaws and asked to switch topics, but there were no takers. She returned to her desk, her face creased in irritation. "It looks like we're stuck with the moldy old Druids. Grindelwald would've been fascinating, don't you think?"

"He would've been," Dana agreed. Suddenly, she had a flash of inspiration. "Dee, have you had Defense Against the Dark Arts yet?"

Delia shook her head. "We have it Tuesdays and Thursdays. Why?"

"I had it this morning. Professor Figg is assigning term projects this week. She said that if we don't like any of the assigned topics, we can come to her with our own ideas."

"So?"

"So," Dana said, getting excited, "if we research the Old Ways and include the evolution of _dark_ magic as well as light, we could probably turn this paper in for two different classes. It would mean a lot less work."

Delia's mouth turned up in a speculative smile. "Research dark magic? Day, that's the first interesting thing you've said in months."

Dana ignored the backhanded compliment and focused on her sister's intrigued look. "Then do you want to?" If Delia was excited about the research, she might not be completely insufferable to work with.

"We'll need access to the Restricted Section," Delia said half-aloud. She gave her sister an excited smile. "I'll talk to Professor Figg tomorrow. It's a brilliant idea, Day. It should be extremely educational."

*****

After dinner that evening, Ginny laid on her bed with the curtains drawn and her eyes closed. Although she didn't look it, she was very busy. Over the past week, Ginny felt the potion's affect on her link with Harry beginning to fade, so she set about constructing a barrier of her own. Unfortunately, the more she used her new power, the stronger it became and the harder it was to bend to her will.

Ginny grabbed hold of a tongue of the silver flame that always burned inside of her and pushed it up against the link, strengthening the wall that kept her mind separate from Harry's. Ginny added a little to this wall every night, hoping that when the potion finally wore off the separation she built would hold.

Ginny was just finishing up for the evening when someone opened the curtains of her bed and she felt the candlelight spill across her face, creating red fireworks against the backs of her closed eyelids. She opened her eyes and squinted up at Ria, who looked down at her with a vaguely amused expression. "Gin, it's eight o'clock. Too late to take a nap and too early to go to bed."

Ginny opened her eyes all the way as she grew used to the light. "Is there something you need?"

"Harry sent me up here to get you. Apparently you forgot a study session." Ria was fairly sure that there was more to these semiweekly get-togethers than Harry and Ginny let on, especially since Harry made it quite clear last month that his feelings for Ginny went beyond mere friendship. Still, Ginny treated Harry in quite the same way she always did, so Ria had no way of knowing whether or not he had followed her advice and confessed his feelings. Unfortunately for Ria's wild curiosity, good manners prevented her from asking Harry and she would rather face down a horde of dragons than ask Ginny.

For a moment Ginny was confused; lately, using the power on any kind of large scale made her lightheaded. It was why she always fortified the separation in their link while lying down. "Study session? Oh! Oh, right." She sat up quickly, but the head rush made her flop back onto the bed. "Could you tell him I'll be down soon?"

"Are you all right, Ginny? If you were sleeping, I can tell him you'll reschedule for tomorrow."

"No," Ginny said, lifting her arm above her face to look at her watch, "that's okay. I was awake."

Ria paused and then asked, "What were you doing up here, then, instead of sitting in the common room? Are you angry with us?"

"No!" she exclaimed. "No, of course not. I was…meditating."

Ria raised an eyebrow. "Meditating?" she asked skeptically. "Why?"

"Oh, you know," Ginny said vaguely. "Why not? To cultivate good, purify my mind, divorce myself from worldly attachment so I don't build up any new karma, that sort of thing."

Now Ria looked at Ginny as though she had grown another head. "What? Really?"

"No." Ginny swung her feet to the floor and unsteadily pulled herself to her feet. "I'm a bit dizzy though. Could you ask him to give me a minute?"

"Okay," Ria said. She shot Ginny one last concerned look as she closed the door to the dorm room.

Ginny took a deep breath and willed her head to stop spinning. She retrieved her wand from under her pillow, grabbed a book from her nightstand and her broom from her trunk. Then she drained a glass of water, smoothed out her robes, and went to meet Harry, who waited impatiently downstairs.

*****

Ginny and Harry stood at one of the floor-to-ceiling windows that lined the east tower. The room was chilly; the glass did almost nothing to insulate the two students from the December cold. Outside, the moon reflected off of the light dusting of snow, vaguely illuminating the broomshed and Quidditch locker rooms. Ginny rubbed her arms and eyed the wintry landscape. "I'll flip you for it."

Harry sighed. "Do we have to?"

"We've already been all over the school," Ginny pointed out. "We can talk from different rooms without any trouble, even when we're on opposite sides of the castle." She looked down at the pitch. "But this is further than we've ever tried before." Harry grumbled and Ginny teased, "Is poor ickle Harry scared of getting cold?"

"It's freezing out there. I didn't bring an outside cloak."

"I don't have mine either. If it's too cold, you can always come inside."

"_I_ can come inside?" Harry asked pointedly. "I thought we were going to flip for it."

"Do you have anything to flip with?" Ginny had absolutely no desire to stand in the middle of the snowy Quidditch pitch for Goddess knows how long. What was the good of Pendragon powers if she didn't use them to her advantage, after all?

Harry fished a Sickle out of his pocket and told her, "Call it in the air."

"Tails," Ginny said the moment it left his hand.

She watched it revolve, as though in slow motion, while it reached its peak and then fell. She used a small banishing charm to give gave the coin an extra little twist just before it landed, and Harry looked at it with chagrin. "Tails it is." His expression turned instantly suspicious. "Did you cheat?"

"Of course not. I'm a Gryffindor. We're honest and true."

"That's Hufflepuff."

"Whatever." She handed him her broom with a cheeky grin and jerked her head towards the window. "The pitch is that way. Have a nice trip."

She _had_ cheated, and they both knew it. Harry gave her a wry smile and swung his leg over the broom. "If my toes freeze off, I hope you feel really bad."

"I'm sure I will," she said, sliding the gigantic windowpane aside for him. "Now off with you."

He took off with a jaunty backward wave, and she shut the window as soon as he was clear. It really was bloody cold out there.

She watched him spiral down to the pitch. The black of his school robes blended with the shadows that sliced across the glistening snow on the ground. When he landed, Harry flashed a light with his wand to let her know he was ready. Ginny flashed back. "_Sermo_," she said to her wand and then held the tip up to her mouth. "Harry, can you hear me?"

"Yes." His voice was distant but clear as it broadcast through her wand. "How should we do this?"

"Let's just try it right now and see what happens," Ginny answered. She said through the link, _Harry, can you hear me?_ No response. _Hopefully this is going to work. Harry, hello?_

"Have you started yet?" his voice came through the wand.

"I have. No good?"

"No good," Harry confirmed. "I'm probably just too far away. Or maybe the cold is affecting my brain."

"Cast one of Hermione's fire charms," Ginny suggested.

"And put it in my shoes? That's where I need it most."

"Not such a great idea then." Ginny pulled the small paperback out of her pocket. She had borrowed it from Shannon a few days ago and thought it made for interesting reading. "Why don't you start towards the castle? Let me know when you can hear me."

"Are you just going to talk off the top of your head?" Harry asked. During these experiments Ginny was usually forced into long monologues while they tested distance. The things that came out of her mind when she wasn't paying attention were often quite entertaining.

"I feel like an idiot when I do that," she answered. "I brought something to read."

"Okay, I'm going."

Ginny looked out the window and saw Harry's form detach from the shadow of the Quidditch stands and move towards the castle. She opened Shannon's book to a dog-eared page. _Every prince must desire to be considered merciful and not cruel. He must, however, take care not to misuse this mercifulness. Cesare Borgia was considered cruel, but his cruelty had brought order to the Romagna, united it, and reduced it to peace and fealty_.

Ginny checked out the window; Harry was still going. She skipped a little down the page. _One ought to be both feared and loved, but as it is difficult for the two to go together, it is much safer to be feared than loved, if one of the two has to be wanting._

"Okay, Gin, I can hear you. What the hell are you reading?"

"It's a kind of manual on how to run a country."

__

If you say so, _but it sounds pretty dodgy._

Not really, she protested. _It's shrewd._

"Okay, I'm going to back up now," Harry said into his wand. _Shrewdness is a Slytherin value, Gin, not a Gryffindor one_.

__

That doesn't mean it's a bad thing, Ginny replied, keeping a careful eye on the glowing tip of his wand as it slowly retreated towards the pitch. _Weren't you almost put in Slytherin?_

Harry groaned. _Do me a favor, all right? Never mention that to Ron. He'd be_—

He abruptly cut out. "Harry, I've lost you."

His light stopped moving. "Can you reach around the barrier any more?"

"It's kind of hard right now," she explained. "The thing is on its last legs. It could cave in any minute and I'm not sure if my wall is strong enough to hold. I don't want to risk breaking anything. We'd be right back at square one."

"Okay, we'll make do."

Ginny and Harry labored away for the next two hours, slowly stretching and extending the reach of their link until Harry once again stood under the bleachers of the Quidditch pitch and they conversed with ease. _Can I come up yet?_ he asked. _My feet are soaking wet_.

__

You mean you were walking that whole time? Ginny asked, surprised. _Why didn't you ride the broom?_

He was silent for a moment. Then he said shortly, _I'm coming back inside now_.

She laughed. _It didn't even occur to you? Airhead._

I'm not, he protested, nearing the window. Ginny slid it open and Harry landed on the carpet with a wet squelch. "Well," he eyed his wet shoes, "maybe a little bit."

Her eyes sparkled with amusement and she held up her wand. "Let me fix it."

"What!" Harry exclaimed. "You mean you haven't perfected drying charms yet?"

"I can do them just fine," Ginny answered tartly. "Better than you, I'll wager. The one you cast on my birthday was useless."

"I mean without the wand," Harry said. "Try it. I want to see what happens."

"You might end up an amputee. Or on fire," Ginny warned.

"I'll take my chances," he said recklessly. "I'm a daredevil Gryffindor to the core. That'll teach you to bring up that I was almost in Slytherin."

She stuck the wand in her pocket and focused on Harry's shoes. Ginny visualized the way they looked earlier, when they were dry. She cemented that image in her mind as she grabbed a bit of the silver light and focused it on what she wanted to happen. Ginny imagined the water evaporating, imagined the way it felt when her feet were toasty warm and projected that sensation through the power. Then she raised her eyes back to Harry's. He grinned with genuine pride. "It worked like a charm."

"It _is_ a charm," she said with an answering smile. "Shall we? I'm exhausted."

Harry held the door open for her and slung her broom over his shoulder as they walked down the stairs. "Maybe you should get to bed early tomorrow, if you're so tired. Extra sleep never hurt anybody."

"Maybe," she answered noncommittally. Ginny was meeting Mike tomorrow night for his surprise. She had no idea what was in store, but she didn't think it would involve going to bed early. She briefly considered telling Harry her plans for the next evening, but changed her mind almost right away. Goddess only knew how he would react, and anyway, it wasn't really his business. The moment she made the decision, though, Ginny felt guilty. She had told so many lies and half-truths over the past month to the people she cared about most. She had become quite good at it, and it was killing her.

"There is no maybe," Harry said. "You need rest. Whatever is going on tomorrow, you can put it off."

"Yeah," Ginny agreed, although she had no intention of doing so.

Harry nodded in satisfaction and rested his hand on her lower back as they rounded a corner.

*****

The next night, Ginny descended the marble stairs to the entrance hall at five minutes to nine. Mike was nowhere in sight, so she sat on the steps to wait. Fifteen minutes later, just as she was about to leave, he jogged through one of the doors. To Ginny's surprise, he hadn't come from the direction of Ravenclaw house but up from the dungeons. Mike smiled in relief when he saw her. 

"Did you think I wouldn't show up?" Ginny asked when she saw his expression.

"Of course not," Mike lied. "You love surprises."

"Yes I do." She stood and brushed off her robes. "So what is it?"

He fidgeted for a moment, looking very excited. "It's not exactly something I'm giving you. It's more like, um, I really just have to show you."

"Sounds good," Ginny said, smiling at his enthusiasm. "Lead the way."

She followed him down several staircases and through a few very long hallways. The stone walls were damp, and Ginny could tell that they were several floors underground. The air was cool, but not cold as it had been in the tower last night. Mike halted in front of a thick wooden door and turned to her. "We're here."

"All right," Ginny said, looking around. She had never been in this part of the school before.

"Maybe you should, um…just don't look, okay?" She dutifully closed her eyes, and heard Mike push the door open. He took her hands in his and led her across the threshold. "No peeking," he ordered as he closed the door.

Ginny waited patiently. When Mike didn't say anything she asked, "Can I look yet?"

"Just a second." She heard him fussing with something, and then he said, "Okay, open your eyes."

Ginny gasped in sincere astonishment. Mike had arranged an indoor picnic. Tapers were set all around and filled the small dungeon with a soft yellow glow. The room was bare of furniture, but a red and white checked blanket covered the center of the floor. On top of the makeshift tablecloth was arrayed a full meal service for two. Domed silver warmers topped the dinner plates, and crystal goblets winked and glittered in the candlelight. "Wow," she breathed.

"You like it then?" he asked happily. "You've looked so stressed lately, and I remembered that Bill always used to take you on picnics when you were little, so I thought—"

"It's perfect," Ginny cut in, wide eyed. "Just perfect."

To her surprise, Mike blushed at her praise. "The house elves took care of most of it. Yesterday I told them what I wanted and everything was ready for me to pick up twenty minutes ago."

"It's still a fantastic idea," Ginny told him. "I'm definitely surprised."

"Great." Mike settled himself down on the blanket. "I set it all up myself, and found the room too."

"It's very…atmospheric," Ginny observed, looking around. "I doubt anybody has thought to have a picnic in the dungeon before."

"Not just _any_ dungeon," Mike said proudly. "We happen to be right next door to the Slytherin common room."

"You're kidding."

"No, really. They're right on the other side of that wall." He gave her a cheerful grin. "I thought it would lend an air of adventure to the whole thing. Cater to your Gryffindor sensibilities and all."

Ginny laughed. "Considerate _and_ original. Quite a combination."

"You've got the original part right. Never let it be said that Michael Aurelius Fletcher has _usual_ tastes in date locations."

"Are we on a date?" Ginny asked, slightly taken aback.

He gave a casual shrug, but watched her very carefully when he said, "Maybe. Do you want to be?" Mike wasn't sure what kind of reaction he was hoping for, but his question was answered with a loud peal of laughter.

Ginny had removed the domed warmer from her plate. Carefully arranged on the finest china the house elves could find were a frankfurter and a pile of crisps.

"What's so funny?" Mike asked.

"This! All…this," she answered when she calmed down enough to speak. "China and candles and crystal and _frankfurters_!" She fell into another paroxysm of laughter and Mike looked slightly concerned.

"I thought you liked them."

"I do," she said, still giggling a bit. "I do, really. This is absolutely fantastic. Exactly what I needed for a pick-me-up."

Mike was relieved; she hadn't been laughing at him. "I have relish," he offered helpfully, holding out the jar.

"Naturally. You thought of everything." Ginny grinned broadly.

"I did," Mike confirmed, pleased that she had noticed. "Right down to your favorite condiment." This set her off again, and this time he laughed along. She really did look thrilled with his surprise. He filled their glasses with water and they dug into their meals with enthusiasm.

"You know, Gin," Mike said after a while. "If anything is going on at all you can tell me."

"Of course I can," she answered pleasantly. Ginny tossed a crisp into the air and tried to catch it in her mouth, but it bounced off her nose and fell to the floor.

"My, what atrocious table manners you have," he said sweetly. "Were you raised in a barn?"

Ginny made a face at him. "No, in a Burrow."

Mike gave her a brief smile and then pressed, "Seriously. What's been going on with you lately?"

"Nothing really," Ginny said, carefully keeping her voice neutral. Mike had known her for so long, he would spot a lie immediately. And he did.

"Oh? Then why do you look like you haven't slept in about a week?"

Ginny raised her eyebrows and asked sharply, "Is it personal questions day or something? I said there's nothing worth telling."

"But maybe something worth hearing," Mike retorted, frowning at her outburst. She didn't answer, and he continued, "Is it Potter?"

Ginny knew the look on his face. Snapping at him had been a serious tactical error. There was no way he would drop it now. "Of course not."

"Has he been bothering you?" Mike asked. "I know that you were, I mean, that you used to have a thing—"

"Not any more I don't. That was ages ago. You're probably the only one who still remembers."

"Then why—"

"Let it go, Mike," Ginny said. "I'm under a lot of pressure from school right now, Voldemort is on the rise, and Shannon snores to wake the dead. Is it any wonder I'm a bit short on sleep?"

"No," Mike said, refilling her water glass. "It's not. I just wanted you to know that you can talk to me if anything's wrong."

He looked at her with his deep blue eyes, ringed with long, dark blond lashes. There was real concern there, and in that moment Ginny almost told him everything. The words welled in her throat and nearly spilled out, but just in time Dumbledore's order rang through her mind. _The fact that you're the Pendragon is not to go beyond this room_. "Thanks, Mike," she said quietly. "I appreciate it."

"You'd better," he answered with a smile. "I don't have the time or patience to listen to the troubles of just anybody."

"Oh! You're too important and busy, then, to spare time for us ordinary folk?"

The somber mood was broken and Mike teased, "I've called you a lot of names in my time, Gin, but ordinary has _never_ been one of them."

"Too right it hasn't." She punctuated her comment by tossing a crisp at him.

"I was mistaken when I said your table manners were merely atrocious, Miss Weasley. They are thoroughly abominable," Mike scolded in an uncanny impression of Professor McGonagall. Then he threw a handful back at her. Within seconds, the atmospheric picnic had degenerated into an all out food fight.

When their plates were empty of food they could throw at each other, the pair looked around at the mess they had created. "I wonder what the Slytherins would say if we just left all this stuff here for them to find," Ginny mused, shaking crumbs out of her hair.

"Don't tempt me." Mike pulled out his wand. "I promised the elves I would clean up after."

"You did?" she asked, incredulous. "I would think they'd be happy to do it themselves."

"I'm sure, but I'd feel bad." Mike began casting charms on the crisp-strewn floor. "A card-carrying member of S.P.E.W. can't very well go around creating extra work for them."

"You're _not_ in S.P.E.W."

"Sure I am," he said, glancing at her. "Aren't you?"

"Well, yes, but…"

"But what? You thought only Gryffindors were into social justice and sticking up for the underdogs?"

"Of course not," Ginny said, pulling herself to her feet. "It's just that…I don't know. Never mind."

"All done." Mike folded the blanket on the now spotless floor and then walked over to Ginny. "Now we just have to clean you up a bit. You're covered in crumbs."

"So are you."

He smirked. "You're a _much_ bigger mess. I'm obviously the supreme victor in the great crisp battle of 1997."

Ginny snorted and began sweeping him off with the palms of her hands. "Hardly. You're in quite a state."

Mike brushed his hands down her sleeves. When he had cleared her of crisp bits, he rested his hands on her shoulders, close to her neck. He looked down at her face, set in concentration as she cleaned him off. Mike swallowed hard, shored up his nerve, and said, "Gin, I have a few confessions to make."

"Sure," she murmured, distracted, as she swept her hands down his chest to make sure she hadn't missed a single grain of salt.

"I haven't been working on my impulse control."

"Hmmm?"

"Last month, after Hogsmeade, you told me to work on my impulse control but I haven't."

"Oh, well, you're young yet," Ginny said. "I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to worry about that sort of thing."

"There's something else," Mike told her. "I didn't give you any advance warning."

"You didn't…what?" She looked up at him in confusion.

"You said that if I ever kiss you again you'll need advance warning. I forgot to memo you ten days ahead."

Ginny's mouth dropped open slightly. She snapped it shut again and said, "You mean you want to kiss me?"

Mike nodded.

"What, you mean _now_?"

He laughed at that. "It seems as good a time as any."

Her hands stilled on his chest and, because she was too surprised to think of any other words, she said, "Okay."

Mike slid one hand around to her back and tightened his grip on her shoulder with his other as he lowered his mouth to hers. It was nothing at all like kissing Harry, Ginny reflected, and there was no way she could ever confuse the two. Harry made her heart pound and her head swim. Mike's kiss, while very nice, didn't make her light headed in the least. She was in full control of her thoughts and body the entire time, and aware enough of her surroundings to note the slight tremble of his fingers against her neck. He was nervous, although he hid it well.

Mike pulled back and looked down at her. "Wow," he said with a smile. "You've done this before."

"I could say the same for you," Ginny replied. He really _was_ a good kisser.

His smile deepened. "A few times," he acknowledged in a way that clearly said it had been more than a few. Ginny had a sudden, very funny thought of Mike as the heartbreaker of Ravenclaw house. She stifled her laughter, though. For all she knew, he actually was. Mike continued, "Since we've done away with advanced notice today, I think I'd like to do it again."

The moment his lips touched hers, Ginny felt a terrible tremor in her link with Harry. The potion's barrier was coming down. Her mind swirled in panic. The backup barrier wasn't finished yet! Completely forgetting that she was in the middle of kissing someone, Ginny steeled herself and _shoved_ her power into the link. It roared through her in protest and she gasped at the effort, but forced the energy to hold steady. Mistaking her gasp for quite another sort of sound, Mike sank his hands into her hair and deepened the kiss. Ginny gripped handfuls of his robe in her fists and braced all the fire she could grab against the link. Her silver wall bowed, bent, and then _held_. It worked. The link was now officially and permanently contained. Ginny trembled with relief. Mike pulled back and brushed her hair from her face. "That was amazing."

"It was," she agreed breathlessly. "I can't believe it."

He grinned. "Neither can I. If somebody had told me even just last year that this was how I'd be spending my evenings I would've thought they needed a stay at St. Mungo's."

Ginny realized that they were talking about two completely different things so she stood on tiptoes, pecked him on the cheek, and said, "I had a great time tonight. Thanks for the picnic. It was really thoughtful."

"I'm glad you liked it." Mike felt a wonderful satisfaction flow over him. "We'll have to do it again soon."

"The kissing or the meal?"

"Um," he said, playing with a lock of her hair, "both, I think."

"That sounds like fun." Ginny looked over to the dishes stacked on the folded blanket. "Do you need any help taking that stuff to the kitchen?"

"That's okay," Mike said. "I've got it. But thanks for asking."

"You're welcome. I'll see you later then?"

"Tomorrow in Runes," he answered, squeezing her in a quick hug.

"Good night, Mike."

"Sweet dreams, Gin."

She smiled, and then slipped out into the hallway. Ginny fairly skipped to the staircase. The link held! No more worrying about losing herself in Harry. And Mike had served her _frankfurters_! It was all too funny. She couldn't keep a silly grin off her face as she climbed up the stairs.

Back in the dungeon room, Mike wore a similar grin as he gathered up his picnic supplies. Ginny Weasley! Who'd have ever thought it?

*****

Shannon walked purposefully through the halls, heading for the library. She carefully eyed every student she passed, in case one of them was the girl she was looking for. Madame Pince was just shutting the glass doors as Shannon arrived. "No, please," Shannon said, "I just have to come in for a book. It's an emergency."

"Then you shouldn't have waited until eleven o'clock at night," the librarian said. "We're closed."

"Please?" Shannon asked again, putting on her most innocent, helpless expression. "I loaned my copy to my friend, but I need it for homework that's due tomorrow and I don't know where she is. Can't you make an exception just this once?"

"No," Madame Pince said. "And maybe this will teach you to be less generous when it comes to lending your books to people who vanish the night before your assignment is due."

The librarian thought she was making it up! "No, really, that's what happened," Shannon protested. "Just this once? In six years I've never turned a book in late."

"An excellent track record," Madame Pince said, "but no. If I bend the rules for you, I'll have to bend them for everyone." She shut the door firmly in Shannon's face.

"Argh!" She stomped away in frustration. How was she going to trace the making of a Minister of Magic without her copy of Machiavelli?

She rounded a corner in the middle of a full-on snit and barely noticed Draco Malfoy fall into step next to her. "Evening, Cannon," he greeted. "What has your robes in a twist?"

Shannon looked up at him and felt a wild flash of hope. If there was anyone else in the school who owned a copy of Machiavelli, it was sure to be Draco. Now it was just a matter of convincing him to lend it to her. And so she said the words she had hoped to never say to a Malfoy. "I need a favor."

He looked intrigued. "You are aware what that will entail, aren't you? I don't do favors without the promise of some kind of return. The bigger the favor the bigger the payback, and you look like you need something very badly."

"Do you own a copy of _The Prince_?"

"Doesn't every self-respecting Slytherin? Muggle he may have been, but Machiavelli was one crafty, manipulative bastard."

Shannon licked her lips and said, "I need to borrow it. Just for the night, so I can write my History of Magic essay."

"And if you don't have the book?"

"Then my essay doesn't get done. Are you going to help me or not?"

He smirked. "This sounds like a _very_ big favor."

"So what do you want? My firstborn? You've got it." Shannon knew he was jerking her around, but she put up with it because the assignment was for a huge part of her grade.

"Nothing so dramatic, Cannon," Draco said. He looked into her eyes for a long, unsettling moment and then said, "A promise of future payment will be sufficient."

"What does that mean?"

"It means," he said with a lazy smile, "that if I ever need you to do something for me, you're going to do it. Not too complicated. All we do is shake on it, and the agreement is binding."

"Binding and open ended," Shannon sulked.

"Do you want the book or not? Getting what you need in return for a simple favor somewhere down the line is far less painful than surrendering your firstborn."

"Fine." She shook his hand and felt the tingle of contractual magic flow between them. Shannon expected nothing less. Malfoys never did anything halfway.

"It's in my dorm," he told her. "Come on." Draco started off down the hall. Shannon had to jog to keep up; his legs were quite long.

She cursed Ginny with every step. In debt to a Malfoy was never a good place to be. If Ginny hadn't vanished to God only knew where, Shannon would have her book and be curled up in the nice, cozy Gryffindor common room instead of chasing after Draco Malfoy on her way to some random dungeon.

"So where are the mudbloods?" Draco asked once they were in a deserted corridor.

"Who?" Shannon asked.

"You know, Johnson and Winters. I thought you never went anywhere without them, proper wizarding pride be damned."

"Gwen is only half muggle," Shannon said. She was starting to get out of breath. "Do you think you can slow down a bit?"

He complied. "Is there really a difference?" Draco asked as they walked. "Both of them come from families that aren't like ours and you show an obscene lack of respect for your lineage every time you're seen with them."

Shannon shrugged. "They're not like you'd think, though. Even Ria, with her muggle parents…she's not…neither of them are how you'd expect. They're my friends."

He gave her a calculating look and said simply, "Then you're lucky."

Her eyes were equally sharp. "Why?"

"Because you have to sleep with them. Tell me, Cannon, have you ever thought about—"

They rounded a corner just in time to see Ginny reach the top of a staircase at the other end of the hall. "Gin!" Shannon exclaimed. "I've been looking everywhere for you. Do you have my book?"

"I'm sorry," Ginny said, "I thought I gave it back to you. It's probably in my bag."

"Great!" Shannon exclaimed. "Let's go get it then. I need it."

"You still owe me, Cannon," Draco pointed out.

Ginny gave him a scornful look. "Like she'd ever be masochistic enough to make a bargain with you."

His mouth curled up in an ugly sneer. "Reading Machiavelli, Weasley? Didn't it offend your delicate Gryffindor sense of justice?"

Ginny said something very rude under her breath and started down the hall. Shannon followed.

"I made the deal in good faith, Cannon," he called after her, "and I was going to uphold it. The contract is still valid."

Shannon turned. "I'm not borrowing the damn book from you anymore, Malfoy. Get over it."

He pulled out his wand. Ginny immediately responded in kind. But, instead of throwing a curse, he said, "_Accio_."

For a moment the three of them stood motionless. Ginny kept her eyes glued to Draco's wrist. That was where she'd see if he was going to try anything. A book flew up the stairs, around the corner, and smacked Shannon squarely in the forehead. She caught it as it fell. "And now," Draco said, smug satisfaction spreading across his face, "I've loaned you the book. The bargain is valid and I want my payback."

"What kind of payback?" Ginny asked.

"That's between Miss Cannon and I."

"The hell it is, Malfoy. What kind of payback? Tell her so she can get it out of the way."

He scrutinized Ginny for a moment, and then looked at Shannon, his eyes no less calculating than before. "Come to my parents' Christmas party."

"What?" Shannon asked. "That's it?"

"Your parents were invited," Draco said. "I saw their names on the guest list, and yours. Don't refuse the invitation."

Shannon glanced at Ginny and shrugged. She turned back to Draco. "All right. I can handle that."

"Too right you can," he said. "There'll be an orchestra, and wonderful food. All the things your family can't afford, Weasley."

Ginny's eyes narrowed, but she didn't dignify him with a response. Draco slid his wand back in his pocket. "A pleasure doing business with you, Shannon." He turned and walked down the stairs without looking back.

"Did he just call you _Shannon_?" Ginny asked incredulously.

Shannon shivered. "Let's get back upstairs. It's weird down here."

"You should have hexed him." Dana's soft voice came from Ginny's right. "It would have saved me the trouble."

The two Gryffindors shrieked in surprise. "Dana!" Ginny said, turning to the fourth year. "You shouldn't lurk in doorways. Especially not in dungeons. People might get the wrong idea."

Dana shrugged. "Sorry," she said, not sounding sorry at all. "It was a really good show. Can you teach me how to draw my wand that fast?"

Ginny smiled weakly. "Some other time, sure. But Shannon has a paper to write and I'm freezing, so…"

"No problem," Dana said. "I'll see you two around, okay?"

The Gryffindors said goodbye and fairly raced up the stone steps. "What were you doing down there?" Shannon asked once they were out of earshot.

"Taking my evening constitutional," Ginny answered.

"In the dungeons? Not very healthy."

"Healthier than spending even one minute in the company of Draco Malfoy, I think."

"I was desperate," Shannon said. "The paper is due tomorrow."

"Well, you got out of the bargain easily enough."

"You're right. He could've asked me to do something really foul, instead of attending the social event of the year that I was planning on going to anyway. Malfoy's not such a bad sort, I guess."

Ginny gave Shannon a strange look. "He's absolutely chilling. There's something in his eyes that's just so cold."

*****

Ginny and Shannon climbed through the portrait hole to Gryffindor tower and went straight to their dorm. The common room was practically empty; it was nearly midnight. "Let me get your book," Ginny said.

"Don't bother," Shannon told her. "I have Malfoy's copy."

"But if I don't give it back now, I'm going to forget." Ginny rummaged through her schoolbag and then moved to her trunk. The book wasn't there. "I must have left it in the tower," she said under her breath.

Shannon smiled slyly. "This is how you and Harry Potter amuse yourselves then? By reading political treatises?"

"Is that some kind of euphemism?" Ginny asked. "We were in the _east_ tower, not the _Astronomy_ tower."

"And snogging can only go on if the parties involved are in the proper location. Is that it? You two have a decided want of imagination, I think."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "I wasn't snogging him."

"I never said you were," Shannon teased. "I said you were reading to him."

"As a matter of fact, I was. I'm just going to run back up to the tower and see if I left your book there." 

The moment Ginny was gone, Shannon turned to Gwen and said, "Do you ever get the feeling that there's something going on with her?"

"And Harry?" Gwen asked. "Sometimes."

"No," Shannon looked at the door through which Ginny had just left, "just her."

*****

Ginny jogged down the stairs. She had to finish this errand quickly; midnight was the curfew for sixth and seventh years, and if a teacher caught her out of Gryffindor tower she'd lose points. In the common room, Ron, Hermione, and Harry all stood by the portrait hole. Harry unfolded his invisibility cloak while Ron and Hermione kept watch. "What's going on?" Ginny asked.

"Mind your own business," Ron said shortly.

"Where are you three sneaking off to?"

"Leave it, Gin," Harry said.

Ginny gave him a disbelieving look. _So you get to know where I am at all times of the day, but I don't get the same courtesy?_

He paused just before dropping the cloak over his head. _Pretty much. I'd tell you if I could, but it's better if you don't know._

"Ginny," Hermione said, "maybe you should go back to bed. We'll be back soon."

Ginny bristled at her tone, as though Ginny was an unruly six-year-old. She gave them all a sweet smile and said, "Well, don't get caught. I didn't score all those goals against Hufflepuff so you could lose the points."

"Have a little more faith in us than that, will you?" Ron said just before he disappeared beneath the cloak.

Ginny watched the portrait open and shut as the invisible people passed through. She counted to fifty and then left after them. Keeping track of Harry would be a piece of cake, now that the link was fully under her control. She silently crept through the hallway, determined to find out where they were going that was such a secret.

*****

Ginny gasped in surprise when she peeked around the corner and saw the front door of the castle open and then creak shut. What did they think they were doing? It wasn't safe for Harry to be outside at night. Voldemort still wasn't strong enough to challenge Dumbledore directly by coming onto Hogwarts grounds, but Ginny fervently hoped they weren't sneaking off to Hogsmeade.

She slipped through the door and, standing in the shadows, scanned the lawns. She sensed that Harry wasn't heading for the village, which gave her a moment of relief. Then her blood ran cold. They were going straight into the Forbidden Forest.

Ginny pulled out her wand and, keeping to the shadows, followed about a hundred yards behind. It was strange, tailing someone she couldn't see, but Ginny's growing concern for Harry's safety prevented her from going back inside. She had heard terrible stories about the vicious creatures that inhabited the forest, and her brother's particularly grisly account of a spider the size of a horse kept floating through her mind. Whatever was going on, it must be very important if it induced Ron to set foot in there again.

When Ginny reached the tree line, she was hit with sudden indecision. Should she light her wand and risk them noticing her, or should she go in with nothing but the moon to guide her? Ginny paced to keep warm as she evaluated her options, and she finally settled on not using a light, even though she wasn't happy about it.

While she deliberated, Harry's trail had grown faint. Ginny followed it as best as she could, but her concentration was hindered by the sinister-looking forms of tree branches and the rustling sounds of the mysterious beasts. It was no wonder the forest was forbidden. Ginny was seriously creeped out. As she stepped into a clearing, she realized she was also seriously lost. Harry's trail was gone.

Ginny took a deep breath and tried to calm her pounding heart. She quieted her mind and looked through the link, reaching out to Harry's location. She felt herself drawing close when the thunder of hooves pounded into the clearing behind her. Ginny whirled around with a little scream of surprise. She faced a creature that towered above her, half man, half horse. His hair and beard were white-blond, and his blue eyes seemed to look through her.

"Oh my God." Her feet were rooted to the ground and she stared, wide-eyed, at the Centaur.

He started when he saw her, but recovered quickly and gave a low bow. "Greetings, young Pendragon."

"My name is Ginny," she breathed, heartily wishing her feet would move so she could back away from this terrifyingly majestic creature.

He inclined his head. "An honor to make your acquaintance. I am called Firenze."

"How did you know who I am?"

"My kind have awaited your coming for centuries. The Grand Council itself watched the sky on the night of your rebirth and traced the course of your star through the heavens."

Ginny blinked. "Why?" He stared down at her; she cleared her throat and said, "I mean, why go through all that trouble? I'm not really all that interesting."

The Centaur hid a smile beneath his beard. "Whether or not you are _interesting_ is, of course, entirely up to you. But, interesting or not, you are very important to your people and to our Lady."

Ginny's head was beginning to ache. All the outdoor noises were much louder than they should have been. Her ears rang with the magnified cacophony of sound. The moonlight seemed to increase in intensity, gradually, but Ginny still noticed the change. She chalked it up to the strangeness of the forest and did her best to focus through the growing brightness and on the Centaur. "Please, have you seen three students pass this way? I've lost them."

"They are your friends?" he asked and she nodded. Firenze looked concerned. "Choose your friends carefully, young Pendragon. I have read the course of your life, and already you are mistaken in some of the ones you trust. They will betray you, or use you for their own ends."

Ginny frowned. "Can you be a little more specific?"

He shook his head. "I merely read the stars. I do not dare interfere with the fate of one so important to our Lady."

By now the light was so bright Ginny could barely see. Firenze seemed not to notice. For all Ginny knew, this kind of thing happened all the time out here. She shouted over the deafening sounds that swirled around her. "Who is your Lady?"

He gestured to the stars that carpeted the sky. "The Mórrígan, the Lady of fate and destiny. She is the Great Queen of my people and the only one to whom we swear allegiance."

"It figures." She couldn't escape Mórrígan for even a single second, it seemed.

Firenze listened for a moment and then bowed again. "I must take my leave. This place is needed tonight. People approach who will help you."

Ginny had no idea how he could hear anything over the scream of the forest. Even the trees made an intolerable level of noise. She whirled around and, through the blinding glare, saw Ron, Harry, and Hermione enter the clearing, trailed by a large black dog. They talked earnestly with each other but stopped short when they saw her.

A crow cawed overhead.

Ginny's senses came apart.

The light was so bright, it burned away her vision, the sound so unearthly loud she thought her eardrums would burst. The fabric of life shrieked through her; thousands and millions of beings all clamored to be seen and heard. Her nose began to bleed. She doubled over, pressed her hands against her ears and screwed her eyes shut to block out the pain, but it was useless. The world roared, and Ginny couldn't stop screaming. It was all too much; the sheer sensory overload was pushing her to the brink of sanity.

The three seventh years stood rooted to the spot. Her scream propelled Harry and Ron into action at the same time; they both leapt towards Ginny, but Hermione grabbed the back of their robes. "If she's having a seizure, it's not a good idea to go near her. We have to figure out a way to get her to the hospital wing."

From the direction of the castle, Dumbledore and Snape dashed into the clearing. Dumbledore met Ginny's eyes and, without hesitating even a moment, pulled out his wand and shouted, "_Stupefy!_"

Ginny swayed, and then collapsed unconscious on the ground. Ron and Hermione stared openmouthed, but Harry immediately ran to her crumpled form. He used his sleeve to wipe the silver blood from her nose and upper lip before the others noticed it, and then cradled her protectively and shot Dumbledore an accusatory look. "What was that for?"

"What is she doing here?" Snape demanded. "This location is supposed to be secure. If my position is compromised in any way—" Snape was utterly dumbfounded. There had been a wildness to her countenance that would have looked more at home on an animal. Snape knew that look. It was one he had seen more times than he could count, in another life. It was a look that haunted his dreams—the way the people he had killed looked at him just before it happened. At the time, it never failed to give him a rush of power, of control over whether they lived or died. He felt like God, back during those days. But the Weasley girl—she looked at him as though she knew everything he had ever done. Terror, disgust, and pain had ripped through her eyes, the only part of her face he could see.

Dumbledore stepped into the clearing and said, "Ron, Hermione, please take Ginny to the hospital wing and tell Madame Pomfrey that I will be along shortly. Harry will join you after he's said goodbye to Sirius."

They didn't move. "You stunned my sister," Ron said, bewildered. "She was having some kind of…of fit, and you _stunned_ her."

"She couldn't be allowed to see Sirius transform," Dumbledore said brusquely, "and Moody only has a matter of days. We can't afford the time it would've taken to get her back to the school. Please take her inside."

Dumbledore clearly would brook no discussion. Ron walked over to where Harry sat on the ground and bent down to pick Ginny up, but Harry wouldn't release his hold. "Harry," Ron said quietly, "let go of her. She needs to get to the hospital wing."

Harry looked up at the Headmaster and opened his mouth to speak, but Dumbledore said firmly, "_We can't afford the time_." Harry released Ginny and Ron picked her up. Giving Dumbledore a wide berth, Ron and Hermione quickly left the clearing.

As soon as they were gone, Dumbledore walked past Harry to where Sirius stood, now in human form. He handed Sirius an envelope and said, "Here is a rough account of their location. Severus has determined to the best of his ability that Moody is being held somewhere in this vicinity, and his time is almost gone. Lupin and Fletcher need all the help they can get."

Sirius nodded. "We'll do our best. I'll see you in a few days."

He crouched down in front of his godson, who still sat on the grass, and said softly, "He did what he had to do, Harry. It would've compromised my freedom and maybe even the mission if she'd seen that I was the dog. Don't be angry with him."

Harry nodded and Sirius pulled him into a rough hug. "I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Okay," Harry said. "Be careful."

Sirius smiled. "Always." He transformed and bounded into the forest.

Dumbledore looked down at Harry, who made no attempt to rise, and then turned to Snape and said, "Severus, I'll see you back at the school. Thank you for accompanying me tonight."

Snape, still shaken by the memories stirred by the look in Ginny's eyes, left without a word.

Harry watched him disappear into the trees. "That's not why you did it."

"Pardon?"

Harry stood. "She already knows that Sirius can turn into a black dog. She would've seen it when the link opened up. Why did you—"

"Harry, she was half a second away from exposing herself," Dumbledore explained. "In another moment, everyone standing here would've seen that she's the Pendragon and, at this point, that would be an absolute disaster. It's the worst thing that could possibly happen to her."

"Why?" Harry demanded. "She hates all the lying. I can tell."

"That may be, but it's necessary to preserve her safety. What if her identity had been revealed and Voldemort discovered Professor Snape's double agent status? Or if Sirius is captured on this mission? They would tell everything under torture or Veritaserum."

"So?" Harry asked. "She's the Pendragon. Voldemort would be stupid to try and hurt her. She's too valuable."

"That may be true, but the rest of the Weasleys are expendable. If Voldemort knew that she was the Pendragon, her family would immediately become the most hunted people in the entire Wizarding world. With them in his power, he would hold all the cards. Letting out that she's the Pendragon not only risks _her_ life, but the lives of her brothers and parents as well."

Harry felt nauseous as the full implications of Dumbledore's words sank in. "What do you think is wrong with her?"

"I don't know," he answered, "but I have a feeling another one of her powers has just manifested itself."

"It always seems to hurt her terribly when that happens," Harry said. "I wish there was a way it could be done without so much pain."

Dumbledore clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder and gave him a reassuring, paternal squeeze. "She's going to be fine, Harry. You and I will make sure of that." Harry nodded gratefully and the Headmaster continued, "We should go to the hospital wing. No doubt Ron and Hermione are frantic."

"What are you going to tell them?"

Dumbledore hesitated. "A memory charm might be the best thing," he said, "but it's up to you, Harry. You're her protector. And now that you're fully aware of what could happen if her identity ever got out, you are the one who should make the choice."

Harry's head swam. This wasn't the kind of decision anyone ever wanted to make. If Ron and Hermione found out that he gave Dumbledore permission to erase their memories, they'd never trust him again. They were his best friends; Harry wouldn't have hurt them for the world. But Ginny's safety had to come first. Much as he might hate it, there was nothing else he could do.

__

"Obliviate them."

*****

Dana and Delia spent their lunch break in the library pouring over ancient, dusty texts. Both girls were much more enthusiastic about their paper topic than they had been before; researching dark magic gave the entire enterprise a forbidden sort of air. "Look at this," Dana said, sliding her book across the table and pointing to a passage. "It's another one for our list."

Delia scanned the page and then scribbled a note on a piece of parchment. "Got it."

"Dee, do you think it's a little more than coincidence that we're finding all these things that we can—"

"What I think," Delia interrupted, "is that you should do more reading and less talking. Now that you've found a description of another druidic power, look through these other books and see what else there is on it. Do I really have to go through this every time? By fourth year you should have mastered the basics of research."

"Why bother looking it up," Dana sighed, "when I've been able to do it without even trying since I was six?"

"You might be able to do it but we don't know why and how," Delia pointed out, "and we haven't explained yet why I can't." 

"But half the spells on the list are things you can do and I can't," Dana pointed out. "It's not like you're completely shut out."

"Less talk, more work, Day."

Dana tossed her quill on the desk in frustration. "I don't feel like it today. I can't concentrate."

Delia was annoyed. "Are you wasting time worrying about that one girl? The Gryffindor?"

"I can't help it. Natalie MacDonald said she's been in the hospital wing for three days. I hope she's okay."

"I don't know what you're all worked up about. She's not your friend."

Dana shrugged. "Maybe not, but she could be. I like her."

"But does she like you?" Delia asked. "She's a _Gryffindor_, Day. Do you think if you, a fourth year Slytherin, were in the hospital wing she'd give you a second thought? She's too caught up in her famous boyfriend to think about you. Gryffindors are all the same."

"I thought you had that wonderful memory, sis," Dana mocked, "or have you forgotten already that I'm _seeing_ a Gryffindor?"

"Only because you were well paid for it."

"Actually, the bet with Tinamyia was just the icing on the cake," Dana said. "Besides, if I hadn't collected on the stupid thing it would have looked funny to the other girls. I take enough flak from them as it is; I wasn't about to compound it. Especially not with that stupid prat Malfoy announcing to the entire common room that Seamus kissed me." [A/N: For the full story, read the Chapter 5 Outtake by Danette posted in the Files section of the HP Pendragon yahoo group.]

"As fascinating as your personal life is, Day, I really don't feel like listening."

"As ever, the supportive twin." Dana took a new book from their pile and flipped through it. Something on one of the pages caught her eye, and she stopped to take a closer look. Dana couldn't keep an excited smile off her face as she read. This was, without a doubt, the coolest thing she'd ever seen. "Dee, look at this." She slid the book to her sister.

Delia scanned the page. "Wow," she said, her Ravenclaw appreciation for intricate spells coming to the fore. "So _this_ is how it's done. No wonder they put the book in the Restricted Section; students would be all over it if Madame Pince left it out."

At her sister's enthusiasm, Dana had a wild idea. Maybe this project would distract Delia from her stupid quest. "The book isn't in the Restricted Section now," she pointed out. "It sitting right here on our table."

Delia's eyes were alight with fascination as she looked at her twin. "Do you actually think we could do it? It looks complicated."

"Why not? You're a Ravenclaw. Challenging transformations are a walk in the park. Besides, we have three years left at this school. That should be plenty of time to figure it all out."

Delia's eyes wandered back to the page. "I wonder what kind of animal I'd be."

"Get a quill and copy everything down," Dana instructed. "The book has to go back at the end of the day."

*****

The moment Mike was dismissed from class, he raced to the hospital wing. Gwen told him in Runes that Ginny had been there since the night of the picnic. At first Mike thought Ginny was probably just under the weather, but after three days he was worried sick. When he got there, Mike pulled the door open and found his way immediately blocked by Madame Pomfrey. "Are you ill?" she asked.

"No, I'm fine," he said. "I'm here to see Ginny Weasley."

"Miss Weasley can't have visitors."

This was worse than he thought. "Is she all right?"

"She's fine, but she isn't to be disturbed, on the Headmaster's orders."

Mike looked over Madame Pomfrey's shoulder. A small form with red hair was curled up in one of the hospital beds. In a chair next to the bed sat Harry Potter; his eyes met Mike's with an unreadable expression. "You let _him_ in," Mike said.

"Mister Potter is the only exception to the Headmaster's rule."

"_Mister Potter_ is the exception to every rule," Mike said. "What makes him so special?"

Harry stood and walked over to the door. "Fletcher, she'll see you when she's awake."

"This isn't fair. I have just as much a right to be with her as you do."

"No," Harry said softly, "you really don't."

"Just because your parents are dead and you have a stupid scar Dumbledore lets you have special treatment?"

"It's a little more complicated than that." Harry could see that Mike's anger came out of worry for Ginny, so he contained his reaction to the Ravenclaw's disrespectful manner. However, he couldn't help but add in a quiet, matter-of-fact way, "And I don't care if you're her friend. If you ever speak about my parents in that tone again I'll put you through a wall."

"That's quite enough," Madame Pomfrey scolded, turning to Harry in disapproval. "I'm surprised at you, Potter."

From her bed, Ginny coughed weakly. Harry immediately dismissed Mike from his mind and rushed to her side. He drew the curtains around her bed and disappeared behind them.

Mike sent a frustrated look toward the curtains, then to Madame Pomfrey. Since there was nothing else for him to do, he left.

Harry sat down on the bed next to Ginny. "Are you all right?"

"Just give me a minute," she gasped. Ginny pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes to block out the colors and turned inward. She found the part of her soul that housed this new ability and, just as she had done with the link, she grabbed part of her silver fire and walled it off. It was an incomplete solution, but at least she'd be able to see and hear without losing her mind.

Ginny put her hands down and looked at Harry. A vague nimbus surrounded his body, the colors ever shifting. In those colors, she could read his thoughts, memories, the very building blocks that made him who he was. The world was saturated with the auras of every creature, and last night the power to see them had been awakened. The sound played on in the back of her mind—it was the symphony of life, no longer deafening, but still very much present.

"Are you all right?" he asked again as he helped her into a sitting position.

"I will be. Is there anything to drink in here?"

He poured a glass of water from the pitcher on the night table and she gulped it down. "Slowly," Harry cautioned. "You'll get a stomach ache. You haven't eaten in a while."

"How long is a while?"

"Three days."

Ginny sighed. "That's a really long time."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Dumbledore stunned you, but then when he did the Ennervate charm you didn't wake up. What happened?"

Ginny tried to remember. "It was like the world exploded. Everything burst into color and sound all at the same time. The sensory overload was…I was about to go mad. I would've done, if he hadn't stunned me. It was too much, too fast."

"Color and sound?" Harry asked.

Ginny remembered the prophecy. "Nothing is hidden anymore," she said in a horrified whisper. "I sealed it off, like with the link, but it's still leaking in. It's terrible, Harry. I don't ever want to use it."

"Why not?" Harry asked.

"I would never feel like it's okay for me to just look inside of people. It's a huge violation of privacy, for one thing. I'm going to build a wall so the power doesn't come through unless I need it."

Harry didn't think Dumbledore would be very happy to hear that she was refusing to use one of her abilities, and he wished he could send an owl to Sirius to ask for advice.

"He's on a secret mission, Harry. Don't even think about it," Ginny said.

"Pardon?"

"Sirius. You can't owl him. He wouldn't know how to handle the problem anyway."

Harry stared. "You were already gone when Dumbledore gave him his orders. How do you know where he is?"

She gestured to the energy that surrounded him. "I can _see_ it. I'm looking at it right now. He told you not to be mad at Dumbledore for stunning me and then gave you a hug and left to join Professor Lupin and Mike's dad."

"Okay, this is unsettling."

Ginny rested her chin on her drawn-up knees. "Try looking at it from this end. I'm going to kill the Dursleys if I ever see them again."

Harry wondered which Dursley transgression she was looking at, and then realized that she could probably see all of them.

Madame Pomfrey slid the curtain aside and chirped, "You're awake then, Miss Weasley! Excellent. I'll just examine you a bit to make sure everything is in order."

Ginny patiently tolerated the nurse's poking and prodding, noting with surprise that she and Dumbledore had been an item during their schooldays and that she had been a Slytherin. When Madame Pomfrey finished, she said, "I'll bring you a tray. You must be famished."

"Can't I please eat dinner in the Great Hall?" Ginny asked.

"I'm afraid not," she answered. "I'd like to keep you for observation."

"What if I came back right after? I could spend the night in here. My friends must be worried about me. Please?"

Madame Pomfrey frowned for a moment, and then said, "All right, if you promise to come back directly after your meal. Mister Potter, if anything happens to her I'm holding you personally responsible."

Ginny nodded, relieved. She knew her friends would be happy to see her; she didn't want them to be concerned.

*****

Ginny dug into her dinner with the excitement of a starving person. She was ravenously hungry; she hadn't eaten anything since the frankfurter and crisps. Mike had swept her into a hug when she walked into the hall, pressed a kiss to her cheek, and whispered, "I'm glad you're better." Her three dorm mates all insisted on choosing foods for her plate, refilling her water glass, and fussing over her like mother hens. Ginny finally decided to sit back and enjoy the attention.

Suddenly, the door to the Great Hall banged open. Lupin, Mundungus Fletcher, Sirius in dog form, and three women Ginny didn't know all walked in and made straight for the teacher's table. The room fell silent. All six of them were caked in dirt and blood, and they looked defeated to a one. They stood in front of Dumbledore and Lupin leaned over and spoke quietly to him. "Oh no," Ginny whispered.

Dumbledore bowed his head, and then stood, a tightness in the set of his shoulders the only evidence of the emotion he felt. He said something to Professor McGonagall and walked around the table to join the aurors. The group left the hall as suddenly as they had come. At the Ravenclaw table, Mike jumped up and raced after them. Ginny followed, and Harry went after her.

Ginny got into the entrance hall just in time to see the front doors to the castle shut in Mike's face. He stood and looked at them without moving. She walked up quietly. "Mike?"

Mike lowered his head. "He never even looked at me. He never even _looked_ at me!"

"It was something important," Ginny said.

He clenched his fists at his side. "It's always something important. Always something more important to him than I am. It's because I look like her."

"Like who?"

"My mother. I've seen pictures." Mike shook with barely suppressed rage. "It's all fun and games with him—camping out under our cloaks at the World Cup and charming muggle artifacts, but then he'll catch me in a certain light or I'll say something the way she used to and it's all over. He throws himself into his work and forgets that he has a son at home."

Ginny put her hand on his arm and subtly cast a calming charm, but Mike was beyond help. His voice trembled in fury and resentment when he said, "Mundungus only has room in his heart to love one person, and she died sixteen years ago. For the past two years, _two years, Gin_, I've stood by and watched him accept suicide mission after suicide mission. This is only the latest one. By some lucky fluke he keeps coming back, but someday he's not going to and—"

"That's not true," Ginny interrupted. "It isn't true, Mike. Because of you, Dumbledore would never send your father on a suicide mission."

"Dumbledore has an operative who's loyal to the light side and willing to do just about anything to join his dead wife. You think he doesn't know that? Mundungus is ideal; a man with nothing to lose, and Dumbledore takes advantage of that every chance he gets. Because he used to be a Gryffindor none of you can see that he's anything less than a saint, but he's fighting a losing battle and he's using every weapon at his disposal to bring You-Know-Who down. Even at the expense of my family."

"He's not like that," Ginny said firmly. "He just isn't."

Mike laughed harshly. "You don't think so? He's been jerking Potter around like a puppet on a string for the past seven years. Everybody sees it but the Gryffindors. He's grasping at straws and he's desperate. The moment he saw that channeling Mundungus's desire to die would serve his precious cause he didn't hesitate because the ends justify the means for him when it comes to winning this war with You-Know-Who. _Two years_ I've lived with this. Well I won't put up with it anymore. They can all go to hell."

"Mike," Ginny began, but he jerked away.

"I have to be alone right now. I can't…I just have to be alone." He turned on his heel and ran from the entrance hall.

Ginny stared after him. "What happened?" Harry asked from behind her.

She spun around. "Alastor Moody is dead. They killed him." Ginny felt strangely detached and unreal, as though she was watching herself in a movie.

Harry's mouth tightened. "You're sure?"

"I saw them say it. I mean, I could see what they were saying."

"He killed Moody because he's looking for you," Harry said flatly. "You need to know so you can stay safe."

Ginny remembered the dream last month, when the Death Eaters tortured Moody and tried to force a name out of him. _Her_ name, although she hadn't realized it at the time. It made sense; Harry's scar connected him with Voldemort and the link connected her to Harry. No wonder she had a dream about the Dark Lord. "What do we do?"

"We go back into the Great Hall," he said, "where you'll be surrounded by lots and lots of people. And you're not leaving my sight until Dumbledore is back in this castle."

"I have to sleep in the hospital wing tonight," she reminded him.

"Then I will too, but you're not to go anywhere without me."

Ginny suddenly felt very tired. "You can't just issue orders, Harry. You're not my father."

His face was granite. "No, I'm your protector."

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Want a place to talk about Mike's displaced anger, Ginny's wacky powers, the Silvermoons' new project, what Draco could possibly be planning, why Shannon didn't stick up for Gwen and Ria as vehemently as she could have, and whether or not Harry was out of line when he gave Dumbledore permission to _Obliviate_ Ron and Hermione? Come discuss "The Rebirth" at the HP Pendragon yahoo group. It's the first place I announce updates. Plus, there are cookies and outtakes and fun to be had by all. The members are all fantastic muses who are wonderful at inspiring me and keeping me motivated. You'd fit right in. groups.yahoo.com/group/HPPendragon

Want to read a great fic while you wait for Chapter 8? Check out karei's _Years of the Snake_ at www.schnoogle.com/authorLinks/karei. It's on my must-read list. It's well written, brilliantly characterized, and extremely funny. Don't forget to review!

Next chapter: Christmas! Draco schemes, Shannon makes an important decision, Ginny starts to think that there might be something to Mike's opinion of Dumbledore, and the second protector is revealed. Don't miss it.

And now the list of honor. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Reviews are what keep me writing.

ffn: Silvestria

Schnoogle: Wolf Angel 83; Poetic; LoveGordon; Raunistar; gwyneth; Code Name Leigh; KobeG; Mim; ginnyveiga; and Nevermores Edge [I'll certainly do my best to be original! My betas have assured me that the stuff I have planned hasn't been done before, so I'm sure you won't be disappointed.], Slytherin SecretAgentMan [when you said that Harry forgave Ginny too easily, did you mean after she messed up his test? Just curious].

By email: Ginnybear; Kiara; ~Danielle~; Ryan; Petrie; BB; Kwinelf; alyssa; and Sarah.

Thanks as well to the lovely people on the mailing list, and to everyone who reviewed there.

Drop me a line anytime at irina@schnoogle.com. I always write back. I love hearing from you, and I hope to see you all at HP Pendragon.

The chapter has now ended.


	9. The Offer

Title: The Rebirth—Chapter 8 "The Offer"  
Author name: Irina   
Author email: irina@schnoogle.com

Category: drama, romance  
Keywords: Ginny, destiny, angst, romance, drama  
Spoilers: All four books  
Rating: PG-13

Summary: So why _did_ Voldemort try to kill Harry? An ancient power has reawakened and the answers to all the mysteries lie with Ginny Weasley.  
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

A/N: Thanks to my muses on the HP Pendragon mailing list for all their great insights to Ginny, Harry, and Mike, which really are what _made_ the chapter. Thanks to karei for her plot feedback. As always, thanks to my betas, Danette and DRI. They're brilliant at what they do. In British Monopoly, Mayfair is the equivalent of Boardwalk in the American game. At least, I think it is. If I'm wrong, I'm sure somebody will let me know. Thanks for reading, and don't forget to review!

****

Chapter 8

****

The Offer

__

December 25, 1997

Ginny was yanked out of a sound sleep by Gwen's loud squeal. "Gin, presents!" Ginny pulled the covers over her head; it was slightly chilly in the room; getting up on cold mornings was one of the hardest things in the world. "Mmph," was the most coherent sound she could muster.

Gwen laughed. "You've got a big, lovely pile of gifts out here, Gin, and if you're not up in five minutes, I'm going to unwrap them all!"

Ginny's arm emerged from behind the bed curtains, groped around her night table until she found her watch, and then disappeared again. A moment later, Ginny made an aggravated noise. "Gwen, it's not even ten o'clock yet. Give me another hour."

"Absolutely not. You can sleep in every other day of the holidays, but not today. And by the way, you have three minutes to open those curtains and wish me a Merry Christmas."

Ginny groaned. "Go ahead and _open_ the presents. See if I care."

"I'll eat your mum's Christmas cookies."

"Is that a threat?"

"It's a promise. Two minutes, Gin."

"Okay, hang on. I'm up." Ginny shut her eyes and reached inside herself; she checked to make sure the wall that closed off her Pendragon sight was firmly in place. After she had woken from her sensory-overload coma, Ginny had stayed up the entire night in the hospital wing, building a solid wall around the new power. It was a much more difficult enterprise than the wall in her link with Harry, which was really more of a permeable membrane that allowed their thoughts to pass freely back and forth. The wall around her sight was a true blockade; Ginny was ruthlessly determined to see the world just as she always had. The wall prevented any of the sight from leaking through unless Ginny specifically wanted to use it. Ginny still heard the music in the back of her mind; it was something she'd probably never be able to stifle completely. Still, every morning she checked the blockade for cracks; so far, she had been lucky.

"Thirty seconds, Gin!"

Making sure the diamond ring was hidden beneath her shirt, she yanked her curtains open and gave Gwen a sunny, fake smile. "Merry Christmas!" The grin slipped from her face as she yawned. "There. Have I fulfilled my obligation? Can I go back to sleep now?"

"Not yet," Gwen said. "After presents."

"I'm not a morning person."

"Everyone's a morning person on Christmas."

"Gwen—"

"Ginny, come on. I don't want to open presents by myself on Christmas morning. I've been laying here since six waiting for a decent time to wake you up."

"You're as bad as a little kid," Ginny teased.

Gwen grinned back. "I'm as _good_ as a little kid. I never would've gotten so many gifts if I was bad."

She had to admit that Gwen _did_ have a sizeable pile. "Do you want to go first?" Ginny offered. "You've been waiting patiently, sort of."

"For three and a half hours?" Gwen said. "You bet your wand I've been waiting patiently."

"Sort of."

Gwen laughed, and tore open a gift from her parents—a new dress made of a shocking red fabric. 

"It's a great color for you," Ginny complimented.

Gwen held the dress up and looked in the mirror. "It's very festive, isn't it? I'll have to wear it today."

Ginny then tore open the package from her parents. As expected, it was a Weasley sweater, a turtleneck, hand-knit by her mother. Ginny pressed her face to the snowy white garment; it was extremely soft and felt heavenly. She couldn't wait to wear it. There was a tin of cookies as well, and Ginny and Gwen each had a few.

Although they started the Christmas festivities with the good intention of taking turns with opening their presents; it soon degenerated into a free-for-all. Wrapping paper flew as the girls tore into their gifts. Ginny opened her gift from Shannon; a silver ID bracelet with Virginia Weasley written in delicate script on one side. She smiled at her friend's thoughtfulness; name bracelets were the accessories of the moment among the girls at Hogwarts, but Ginny never would've spent the money on one for herself. From Ron she had a new pair of elbow pads for Quidditch; hers had belonged to George and were scuffed beyond repair. Gwen gave her a book of charms to construct complicated hairstyles, and from the packaging Ginny could tell that Ria's gift was also a book. She tore the wrapping off, read the title, and then dropped it like it was on fire.

"What is it?" Gwen asked.

Ginny sounded slightly choked. "_The Once and Future King_."

Quirking an eyebrow at Ginny's reaction, Gwen said, "What with all the mythology you read, she must have thought you'd love it. It's a great book; my dad has a copy."

"No doubt. I can't see Ria buying me a _bad_ book, can you?" Ginny agreed, but she didn't pick the paperback up from the floor.

Gwen sat on her bed, surrounded by crumpled wrapping paper and opened boxes. "You still have one more," she said, pointing to a small, flat package.

Ginny quickly took the paper off and flipped it open. Nestled on a bed of black velvet were earrings made from small, clear stones that glowed from within. Ginny pulled one out and examined it closely. A red light shone inside of the studs, but the surface of the rock was cool. "Firestones," Gwen breathed. "Wow, Gin. They're wonderful."

"Firestones?" Ginny asked, still turning the earring around in her hand. "I've never heard of them."

"They're fished out of volcanoes by trained salamanders."

Ginny gently replaced the stone in its velvet bed. "What kind of charm is it that makes them glow?"

"No, Gin. It's not a charm," Gwen explained patiently. "That's real fire. It never burns out. Firestones are extremely rare." Her smile turned sly. "These wouldn't happen to be from your orchid friend, would they?"

Ginny gently touched the glowing stones; she could feel Harry's imprint on them. His essence clung to everything he touched, and left a sparkling impression behind. The earrings were beautiful. "Absolutely," she confirmed. "I'll have to send him a thank you note."

Gwen whooped with laughter and threw a pillow at Ginny. "A thank you note! That's nothing! For a present like this?"

As Ginny fended off another pillow attack, the earrings dropped to the bed. "Have you got a better idea?" she asked through her laughter.

"I'll have to let you know," Gwen said. She nodded towards Ginny's pile of gifts. "What say we put that hair book to good use?"

"What, now?"

"After we take showers, anyway. It's the best day of the year; I don't want to spend it all ratty. We've got two hours before the Christmas feast, so let's get dressed up. Sounds good?"

Ginny grinned. She had lost count of the number of times Gwen had made her over, and still her friend couldn't get enough of transforming people's appearances and making them beautiful. She was happy for Gwen, that she had found something that gave her so much pleasure. "Sounds like fun."

*****

Shannon's wireless played boisterous Christmas music from the WWN as Gwen sat in front of the mirror and struggled to keep her face neutral. Ginny said, "You know, if you didn't trust me with your hair you shouldn't have made the suggestion in the first place."

Gwen braced herself. "I trust you. Just get it over with quickly."

Ginny waved her wand over Gwen's head. "It won't hurt a bit." She eyed the results. "Well, maybe just a little bit."

"Try it again, with a bit more of a flick to the wand."

Ginny reread the spell. "Sorry. Hair has never been my strong point." Gwen had already pulled Ginny's hair into a sophisticated updo; she had offered hair extensions but Ginny had turned her down. So instead, she twisted Ginny's hair into a topknot and spent ages styling it into just the right level of messy carelessness. Ginny would've preferred something sleeker, but Gwen swore that the wisps of hair that curled around her face and neck _made_ the look. And now it was Ginny's turn with Gwen's hair. Although Gwen professed to have the utmost confidence in her abilities, Ginny could tell that Gwen was forcibly restraining herself from grabbing the book and doing it on her own.

"Nobody gets it on the first try," Ginny said defensively.

"You've had five," Gwen pointed out.

"Sixth time's the charm."

"How do you figure?"

Ginny thought for a moment. "Well, we're sixth years, aren't we?"

Gwen snorted. "That's some faultless logic you have going on, Gin."

Ginny crossed her eyes at her friend. While Gwen was distracted with laughter, Ginny waved her wand with just the right amount of flick, and Gwen's hair wound into a smooth French twist. Gwen surveyed Ginny's handiwork critically. "Not bad," she complimented. "Not bad at all, for someone who took six tries to get it right."

"And how many times did you have to make that Shrinking Solution in third year before Snape gave you a passing grade?"

The corner of Gwen's mouth curved up in a rueful smile. "Point taken, but that's the last time you'll mention Snape on Christmas. Got it?"

"Understood." Ginny gave Gwen a mock salute and put the book on the shelf.

Gwen slipped her dress over her head and examined her reflection in the mirror. Ginny reassured, "You look lovely. It's a great outfit."

Gwen tugged on the bottom of the dress. "It's a little too short, isn't it? Not the thing for Christmas day." She took her wand and lowered the hem until it fell to just past her knees. "Better?"

Ginny eyed the new length critically. "Actually, yes. I like it. It's a good thing you're tall, though. I'd never be able to pull it off."

She opened the wardrobe and rooted through until she found a pair of jeans. Gwen frowned. "You're not going to wear those, are you?"

"Sure I am. With my new sweater."

"Gin, I didn't spend half an hour on your hair so you could wear an old pair of jeans. It's _Christmas_! I'm going to look like an idiot in this dress if you're not wearing one too."

"My robes from the ball are all wrong though. I'd freeze," Ginny pointed out. "And I don't…ooh!" She rifled through the hangers in the wardrobe until she found the green velvet dress that had mysteriously appeared on her bed last month. She held it up and grinned. "What do you think?"

To Ginny's surprise, Gwen didn't go into raptures over the robes. Instead, her friend took the hanger and examined the outfit carefully. "Is this from Gladrags?" she asked, her brow creased in surprise.

"Yes," Ginny confirmed.

"How did you get it?"

Ginny shrugged and took the hangar back. "It was from a very nice, very anonymous person. I thought it was…my orchid friend, but it turns out I was wrong."

"_I'll_ say. And it just, what, showed up? Without a note?"

"No, there was a note, but no name. Why? Do you know something I don't?"

"Nothing," Gwen said, still looking confused. "It's just that I was still in the store when someone bought this dress. I noticed because you had been looking at it. But I don't see why--"

"Who?" Ginny asked eagerly.

"That one Slytherin girl who's been hanging around you lately. You know, the one who went to the ball with Seamus?"

Ginny blinked in surprise, and looked down at the dress in her hands. "You're kidding. You mean Dana Silvermoon?" Gwen nodded, and Ginny let out an astounded breath. "You must have made a mistake then. Why would she spend three hundred Galleons on someone she had only met the day before?"

"Trust me," Gwen confirmed, fingering the deep green velvet. "It was this dress, and she bought it."

"That's…really weird." Ginny replaced the dress in the wardrobe and reached for her jeans again.

"Wait!" Gwen exclaimed. "What are you doing?"

"I can't very well _wear_ it, can I? I mean, why would someone I barely know spend so much on me?"

"Obviously she saw you admiring it and thought you would enjoy wearing it."

"But still, Gwen. I don't care how big her trust fund is. She can't just—"

"You had no problem wearing it when you didn't know who it was from," Gwen pointed out wryly. "Come on, Gin. She wouldn't have given it to you if she didn't want you to have it."

"I can't just accept this dress from someone I hardly—"

"It's a bit late to give it back," Gwen interrupted, taking the dress out again. "You can't return it after it's been hanging here for two months."

"So what should I do?"

"You should wear the dress, and when you see her at the noon feast, tell her 'Thank you for the lovely gift.'" Gwen thrust the hangar into Ginny's hands. "Plus, think how in season we'll be, with our red and green."

"I guess," Ginny said doubtfully; she still felt uncomfortable about wearing it, but Gwen was right. She couldn't very well give it back after two months.

"No guessing," Gwen chirped with a grin. She dug Ginny's glass slippers out of the back of the wardrobe and said, "Your new jewelry will be perfect. Just right for the best holiday of the year. Now get dressed, and we can go to lunch."

*****

The moment Gwen spotted her Ravenclaw, she said to Ginny, "I'll see you later," and raced over to his side. Ginny scanned the people milling around. There couldn't have been more than twelve students there, and she didn't know any of them very well. She walked down the rest of the steps, careful to not step on the hem of her dress or drop Mike's gift, and spotted Dana Silvermoon coming up the stairs from the Slytherin dungeons. Ginny didn't even have to move. Dana came right to her.

"Ginny! Merry Christmas!" Dana was glad to see Ginny in the green dress; buying it had been an impulse, and Dana had very nearly kept the outfit for herself. But she was glad she hadn't. The dress suited Ginny infinitely better than it would have Dana.

"Merry Christmas." Ginny decided to jump right in. Gryffindors weren't known for their subtlety. "Dana, I know you sent me this dress."

Dana's eyes widened, then an impassive mask slipped over her features. It was a patented Slytherin maneuver to put on a poker face when hiding something. Unfortunately, Dana had not yet perfected her technique; there was always a split-second when she gave herself away. This was not lost on Ginny. "Pardon?" Dana asked innocently.

"This dress. Gwen saw you buy it on the last Hogsmeade weekend, and then it was left on my bed the next morning."

Dana knew she was caught, and shrugged. "Call it a combination birthday and Christmas present."

Ginny smoothed her hands self-consciously down the velvet skirt. "It's too much."

Dana snorted inelegantly. "It's Knuts compared to how much those earrings must have cost." Ginny put her hand to one of the firestones as Dana continued, "They probably set someone back a good six hundred Galleons, at least. Trained salamanders don't come cheap."

Ginny was momentarily stunned at the figure Dana named, but she recovered quickly. "That's different. The earrings are from somebody I know very well. It's not that I don't appreciate the thought; I was just wondering why—"

She was cut off as Dana's twin emerged from the Ravenclaw corridor and made straight for them. "Day!" Delia called, a smile of genuine affection on her face, "Merry Christmas!" The sisters hugged. It was obvious to Ginny that Delia really cared for Dana, no matter how unpleasant she might be to everyone else. The smile slid from the Ravenclaw's face, though, as she turned to Ginny. "Your family didn't want you this year, Weasley?"

Dana gave her sister a warning look. "She could say the same thing to us, and it would actually be true."

"Speak for yourself, Day. I stayed to work on our project for Binns. The holidays won't be a total waste of time this way. Although I suppose that Weasley actually stayed behind to keep her orphan friend company, since he doesn't have any real family of his own."

Ginny wanted very badly to point out that the Silvermoons were orphans as well. She would've done, had she been alone with Delia, but since Dana was standing there Ginny held her tongue. Instead, Ginny asked the Slytherin, "What project are you doing for History of Magic then?"

"Researching the Druids, and comparing the powers the Old Ones had to the ones modern wizards and witches are born with."

"Oh?" Ginny asked. "Have you found anything interesting?"

"Actually, we have," Dana said, warming up to the subject. "The Old Ones were especially interested in channeling the magic of nature. They discovered animagism, which—" Delia elbowed Dana sharply, and Dana smoothly continued without missing a beat. "And their powers back then were especially close to the Otherworld."

At the mention of the Otherworld, Ginny's interest was piqued. "Were they?"

Dana nodded enthusiastically. "It's really interesting, that. Back then, magical powers had roots in the Otherworld; as opposed to now when magic is something that comes from inside us. It's a trade off, I guess, because people's powers were lots stronger back then. But at the same time, even though our magic might be weaker now, at least it never runs out."

"Runs out?" She didn't like the sound of that.

"Well," Dana explained, "we found some records written by real Druids. They describe that, if they ever use a whole bunch of magic at once, afterwards they sort of had to…recharge."

"Recharge? Like a battery?" Ginny thought of her father's collection.

"A bit like that. They had to wait for their powers to come back. But now, even though our magic isn't as strong, at least we always have it."

"Do you know why?" Delia suddenly burst out, as though it was killing her to ask, but would kill her even more not to. "We've been through every book in the library and haven't found a reason for the change. Have you learned anything about it, or…" Delia trailed off and gave Ginny a look that mixed hope that the Gryffindor would know the answer with resentment that she even had to ask.

Ginny recognized the frustration on Delia's face. It was the same expression Hermione and Mike had when they ran up against a problem that wasn't answered in a book. Ginny decided to take pity on the Ravenclaw, but only because Dana was her partner in this assignment. Plus, it was Christmas. "It was because of King Arthur." Ginny saw Delia's mind immediately shift into gear; the girl was going over everything she had read, and figuring out where this new information fit. Ginny continued, "By welcoming Christianity to the island he caused the rift between this world and the Otherworld, and the Otherworldly connection between mortals and divine beings was severed."

"Wow," Dana said. "That's rough."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "You don't know the half of it."

"Maybe you can answer another question for us then," Dana said. "It's come up in our research a few times. Well, more than a few, actually. You know how some people have special talents for Transfiguration or Charms or whatever? Well, have you ever heard of anyone with a special aptitude for the Old Ways?"

Luckily, Ginny's poker face was much better than Dana's. "No, I haven't. Even the smallest bit of druidic power would have to come from the Otherworld, and that's been closed off to mortals for nearly a thousand years." Ginny looked at Dana very hard; her gaze so piercing that the Slytherin had the oddest feeling the older girl could see right through to inside of her. "Why do you ask?" Ginny said, her tone of polite curiosity a sharp contrast to the intensity of her eyes.

"It's probably nothing," Delia said quickly, not liking at all the way this girl was looking at her sister.

"Probably," Dana agreed, "but you can never be too sure. See, these old books list all kinds of abilities that the Old Ones had, and some of them are things that Dee and I can do. We were wondering if you've ever heard of anything like that happening before."

"No I haven't," Ginny said nonchalantly. "There's some overlap, isn't there, between the powers of the Old Ones and modern magic? There are a million reasons why you two could have these…abilities, and none of them have anything to do with the Otherworld." Ginny hadn't been this unsettled since the day Moody died, although she kept her voice even and her face calm.

"That's what we figured," Delia said in a superior tone. "Come on, Day. I'm hungry."

"Hang on a minute," Dana told her sister. She turned to Ginny and asked, "Wasn't there something you were going to ask me?"

Ginny's gaze flicked briefly between the two sisters, and then she caught Gwen's eye across the room. Gwen gave her a significant look, and Ginny turned back to Dana with a smile. "No, I don't think there was. Thank you for the lovely gift."

"You're welcome," Dana said cheerfully. "Thanks for the tip about King Arthur."

She elbowed Delia, who rolled her eyes and said grudgingly, "Thank you for the information. Although we would've found it eventually on our own."

"No doubt after you'd gone through the entire library a second time," Ginny said sweetly.

The Ravenclaw opened her mouth to make a scathing comment, but Dana pulled her away. Ginny heard the Slytherin say to her sister, "You deserved that."

Ginny leaned against the banister and watched them go. She didn't trust her legs to hold her up after that little scene. Dana and Delia each had a spark of the silver flame burning within them. It was nothing compared to the raging inferno she carried inside, but still, it was there. Two sisters, identical yet different, like day and night, light and dark. It always came back to balance. She had _seen_ it. And they knew her, even if they didn't realize it yet. It was probably just a matter of time. It could be days, or even years, but it would happen eventually.

The front door to the castle swung open, and Ron, Hermione, and Harry came in, laughing and covered in snow. They were all red-cheeked from the crisp winter air and full of energy from their snowball fight. Ron saw Ginny first and crossed the hall on his long legs, squeezing her in a bone-crushing hug. "Merry Christmas, Gin!"

She laughed and hugged him back. "Merry Christmas, Ron." He was freezing, and getting her all wet, but she didn't care. Christmas was a day for family. "Thanks for the Quidditch pads."

When he let her go she was immediately swept up by Hermione, who gave Ginny a quick hug and then pulled out her wand and dried the snow from the green velvet dress. "Thanks," Ginny said. "Merry Christmas."

"You too," Hermione answered with a grin.

Ginny turned to Harry, who had been waiting patiently for her to notice him. _Thank you for the earrings_. _They're beautiful_. She didn't think Harry would want Ron to know that he had bought her jewelry.

__

They reminded me of you.

She smiled, and Ron punched her arm. "Aren't you going say Merry Christmas? Or are you just going to stand there looking at each other?"

"Merry Christmas, Harry," she said, her eyes sparkling.

"It is, isn't it," he agreed.

"It looks like you lost the snowball fight," Ginny observed. He was coated head to toe in the white powder; it clung to his hair and in the folds of his cloak. She set Mike's gift on the stairs and started cleaning him off.

"It wasn't a fair fight," Harry explained. "Two against one, you know."

"Is that so?" she asked, amused. She would think about the Silvermoons later. There was nothing she could do about them right now, and she was determined to have at least a few hours of Christmas as Ginny Weasley before she had to go back to being the Pendragon.

"Ron!" Mike called cheerfully, emerging from the Ravenclaw hallway. "Happy Holidays! You too, Gin!" He walked up to the group and sized up the scene in a glance. Harry and Mike met each other's eyes over Ginny's head; she was still casting drying charms on Harry's robes. Harry raised his eyebrows gave Mike a pointed look. Mike's gaze narrowed slightly, and he said in a tight voice, "Hello, Potter."

"Afternoon, Fletcher." Harry caught Ginny's wrists gently in his hands. "That's good enough," he said, his smirk fading into a genuine smile as he looked down at her. "I wasn't beaten _that_ brutally."

"I'll take your word for it," she said, throwing her brother and Hermione a knowing look.

"Allow him his pride, Gin," Hermione teased. "Let him think he held his own."

She laughed and looked over her shoulder at Mike. "I've got a present for you."

Mike's eyes drifted to her wrists, which Harry still hadn't released. "I've got one for you too, but you'll need your hands to open it." Harry immediately dropped his hold on her and glanced at Ron, who looked back with a decidedly odd expression.

Ginny presented her package to Mike. He tore the wrapping off and looked at her with pleasure. "Is this one of those self-filling quills?"

She nodded. "You'll never have to bother with ink bottles again."

"Thanks, Gin! It's great. Here's mine."

Ginny ripped the paper off of the long, flat box, and looked at the lid. "Monopoly?"

"It's a muggle game. Your dad would love it. We play all the time in the Ravenclaw common room. I can teach you after lunch, if you want."

"You gave me a game that you're already an expert at?"

He gave a cheeky grin and said, "Losing builds character. Haven't you heard?"

"I get a feeling I'm going to find out first hand later."

"It's a distinct possibility."

She grinned, and turned to Hermione. "Maybe you could give me some tips? Since it's a muggle game, I mean."

As soon as Ginny wasn't looking at him anymore, Mike turned his eyes back to Harry. Both of their gazes were hard and challenging; Ron wondered why he hadn't before noticed that they didn't like each other. And, based on their behavior in the past few minutes, he had an uncomfortable feeling that he knew exactly why that was so.

The room began to empty. "I think lunch is ready," Harry said. "Come on, Gin. You and Hermione can plan Monopoly strategy to your hearts' content while we're eating." He put his hand on Ginny's lower back, cast one more severe glance at Mike, and turned her towards the Great Hall.

Mike glared balefully at Harry's back, and then started after them.

Ron turned to Hermione, utterly bewildered. "Did you see that?"

Hermione remembered her conversation with Harry during the Halloween ball. "See what?" He gave her a pointed look and she sighed. "Will you do him a favor, at least? Don't bring it up until tomorrow."

"Why should I do him any favors?"

"Because he's your best friend, she's your sister, and it's Christmas. There are three good reasons for you."

"I'm not sure about this."

Hermione slipped her hand in his as they walked into lunch. "Then just imagine how they feel."

*****

Ginny looked down at the game board in despair. Mike controlled most of the properties, and she had just rolled a four. That meant that she was going to land on Mayfair, where he had a hotel. She didn't have nearly enough money to cover it. "Maybe if I mortgage something?"

"You don't have anything left to mortgage."

She cast her eyes desperately around the table. "There must be something left. I'm almost to Go. Can't you just hold off on the rent until I get the Go money?"

"It wouldn't be enough. Plus, the game doesn't work that way. If you can't pay now, and you can't, then I win. Game, set, match Fletcher."

She gave him a resigned smile. "Good game, then. Thanks for teaching me."

"Thanks for playing. You're a gracious loser."

She arched an eyebrow. "I bet you say that to all the girls."

The corner of Mike's mouth curved up in a half smile as he toyed with the dice. "I've been told I have that special romantic touch."

She began cleaning up the game. "Have you? When?"

"A few weeks ago, during a picnic in the dungeon."

Ginny snorted. "I never said that was romantic."

"Only because you didn't think of it." He folded the board and put it in the box. "A mistake I'm willing to overlook."

"Dungeons aren't romantic," Ginny said, putting the lid on the game, "and the person who told you they are was lying."

"They're not, really, are they," he agreed. "Unused classrooms are much better."

She glanced around at the desks that were stacked against the wall. "Better than what?"

"Well, dungeons. Don't you think? At least there are windows in here."

"Still. With all this dust? It's hardly the thing."

"Anyplace can be romantic, Gin," he said, standing and coming around to her side of the table. "It all depends on what you do once you're there."

"All I've done in this room is lose spectacularly at Monopoly. But I'll get better with practice, right?"

"Definitely." He stopped in front of her chair and looked down at her. She stood, not wanting to crane her neck to see his face. "But now you have to pay a forfeit." He had that look in his eyes again, the one he always got just before he kissed her. 

Ginny was really going to have to talk to him one of these days. Most of the time he treated her as he always had, and then every so often she'd come across him in an empty room, or catch his eye in a certain way, and he'd seize an opportunity. Once she had asked him why, and he shrugged and said in that typically careless Mike tone, "Do I need a reason?" She didn't suppose he did; she didn't have one, after all. It was one of those things, and it was easy to just continue as they were. He made her forget that she was the Pendragon, and she made him forget about his father. They were good for each other in that way and Ginny figured that, for now, it was enough. Neither of them needed, or wanted, anything more.

Mike gently brushed his lips back and forth over hers. "You know," he whispered against her mouth, "if this is what I get for winning then I might not help you improve your game."

"What do I get when I win?" she whispered back.

His blue eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. "If you ever beat me, my forfeit will be lots better than a kiss in a dusty classroom."

"Is that a promise?" she asked, wondering just what he had in mind. She almost looked, but stopped herself just in time.

"Mmmm," he said, slipping his arm around her waist. "You can count on it."

"I can hardly wait."

He cupped the back of her neck in his hand. "You and me both."

Then Ginny lost track of time.

The creak of the door pierced the fog in her mind. Mike lifted his head and looked over his shoulder, positioning his shoulders to block Ginny from the view of whoever had entered the room. He said calmly, "Hello, Potter."

Ginny heard Harry's voice. "Sorry, Fletcher. I didn't mean to interrupt anything. I was just looking for—" He abruptly cut off. Around the edge of Mike's black robe, he saw the hem of a green velvet skirt. There was only one person at the lunch feast who had been wearing a dress in that color. Harry didn't speak; he didn't trust his voice. Instead, he stepped fully into the room and around the side of the couple standing in its center. The girl Mike held against him was Ginny. He held her gaze for one horrible moment that stretched into eternity. Then he spun on his heel and left without a word.

She shut her eyes and made a noise that was half way between a groan and a sigh. "Oh my God."

Mike took a step back and looked down at her. "Do you have something going on that I don't know about?"

"I don't know what you mean."

He put his hands on her shoulders and leaned down to her eye level. "Did Potter just catch me snogging his girlfriend?" She was silent, and he said, "You can tell me, you know. If you don't, I'm just going to draw my own conclusions."

"Of course I'm not his girlfriend," Ginny said, stepping out of his hold. "I never have been."

"Then why did he look at you like that?"

"I really don't want to talk about it, Mike."

"Humor me."

Ginny rubbed the back of her neck, took a deep breath, and said, "He says he's in love with me."

Mike's eyes widened. "Is he? Or does he just say he is?"

"What's the difference?"

"There's a _big_ difference, Gin."

Ginny was quiet for a moment. Then, "He is."

Mike swore under his breath.

Ginny started for the door. "I should talk to him."

He caught her arm before she got three steps. "Trust me, you're the last person he wants to see right now. I'll go."

"He'll hex you into tomorrow."

Mike's eyes showed understanding, and even compassion, for her situation. "Your confidence is underwhelming. Don't worry, Gin, I'll straighten it out."

She looked down at his hand, and he quickly let go of her. "What are you going to say?"

He started for the door. "I'll make it up as I go along. See you later."

She stood alone in the classroom, unsure of what to do with herself and the riot of emotions that swirled inside of her. Guilt, embarrassment, and even anger held her in place. She didn't know what would happen now, and wasn't sure she wanted to find out. She couldn't help but worry about Mike. Harry wasn't going to be in a friendly frame of mind. And, as Ginny stood there, she realized that Mike hadn't asked whether she returned Harry's feelings. He hadn't wanted to know. Ignorance, after all, was bliss.

She snapped out of her reverie at an insistent tugging at the bottom of her skirt. A house elf stood in front of her and held out a folded piece of paper. "Miss will take this note?" the creature asked in a high pitched voice.

Ginny took the parchment and thanked the elf, who bowed again and scurried out of the room. She unfolded the sheet; it was from Dumbledore, asking her to meet in his office at seven o'clock.

*****

Draco leaned against the railing above the ballroom and watched his parents' guests below. Narcissa had truly outdone herself tonight. The orchestra's soft, festive music floated around the room, and thousands of candles hovered in the air, making the marble floor and golden walls glitter. With the brightly colored robes of the dancers, it looked as though the ball was taking place in a jewel box. He knew Lucius would be pleased; a house full of happy guests meant that the evening's work could be carried out in secret, without any uncomfortable questions. Each and every Death Eater now had an ironclad alibi.

He flagged down a house elf. "Do you see the girl with blond hair, in the deep purple robes?" he asked, discretely pointing out Shannon Cannon.

"Yes sir," the elf confirmed.

"Bring her to the study," Draco instructed. "Tell her it's an emergency."

The elf scurried off to do his bidding, and Draco took a deep breath. He had been planning this evening for nearly a year, and now it all came down to him. He had set three very specific goals for this night, and his entire plan hinged on whether or not he could accomplish them.

*****

The heavy doors swung open at a mere touch of her hand. Shannon stepped cautiously into the room, and the door slammed shut the moment she was clear. The loud noise made her jump; she was edgy, and had no idea what kind of emergency would require her presence in the Malfoys' study. At least it was relatively well lit; candles were placed strategically on various tables, and a fire crackled in the hearth. There was a massive desk at the other end; a man with white-blond hair sat behind it, his feet propped up on top. She thought at first that it was Lucius, but as she stepped closer she realized that it was Draco.

"Thank you for coming," he said, breaking the silence.

"We had a deal, remember?" she said. "I didn't have a choice."

"I didn't mean coming to the ball." He motioned for her to have a seat. 

Shannon perched primly on the edge of the chair, folded her hands in her lap, and looked at him expectantly. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Is there something I can do for you?"

"There are quite a few things you can do for me," he answered, swinging his feet to the floor and sitting up straight. "I'm glad you offered, because asking right out would've been awkward."

"I didn't mean—"

"I know what you meant," he said with a lazy smile. From somewhere, he produced a bottle of Firewhisky and two glasses.

"No thanks," she told him.

Draco poured the liquor and gave her an inscrutable look. "Indulge me," he said, sliding the tumbler across the desk.

Shannon took a sip and coughed as the whisky burned its way down her throat. His laughter was soft and mocking as he raised his own glass in salute, and then took a swallow. She watched him carefully. The candlelight did nothing to soften his features. Rather, it accentuated the sharp angles and planes of his face, giving him a dangerous, almost satanic air. But she was letting her imagination run away with her. He was just Malfoy, just one of her schoolmates.

She thought then about all the girls at Hogwarts who would die to be in her shoes right now, sharing a drink with Draco Malfoy in a candlelit room. She had never seen him in colors other than black, gray, and green, as those were the shades of his school and Quidditch uniforms. Tonight, he wore black trousers and a dress shirt of deep blue. The top button was undone, and his tie was loosened. She couldn't help but admire; he really was extremely handsome.

He saw with satisfaction that she appreciated his appearance, so he let her have a good, long look. Image was the key to control, after all. When she stopped staring and took another sip of her drink, he began his pitch. "I had Lucius and Narcissa include you on the guest list for a specific reason."

"I wondered," she said, resting her glass on the desk. "There are hardly any young people here. Why?"

"You know that Lucius is on the board of the _Daily Prophet_." She nodded, and he continued, "I've heard that you want to write for them after you're finished with school. Is that correct?"

Shannon had always wanted to be a writer, and had never made any secret about that fact so she nodded again.

He seemed satisfied with her answer. "Would you like to wait until after school, or would you like to start now?"

"Sorry?" she asked, not understanding his meaning at all.

He drained his tumbler with one long swallow and then leaned across the desk towards her. "The _Prophet_ needs someone to write an editorial, an opinion column."

"I know what an editorial is."

"You are the person to write it," Draco told her. "Everything has been arranged. You can refuse, if you like, but if you take this assignment you'll be guaranteed more, and a permanent position on their staff once you're done with school."

Shannon took another sip from her drink. "What's the catch? Why would you do this for me?"

"No catch," he answered, his lips curving up into a closed-mouth smile. "Well, one small catch. The topic of your article has already been chosen for you."

"By whom?"

"The editorial board," he said with a dismissive wave of his hands. "They're the ones who handle that sort of thing. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Are you going to take it or not?"

"Will I be obligated to you if I do?" Shannon wanted to make sure she had explored all aspects of the deal before agreeing. She wasn't likely to ever get a chance like this again, and wanted to make sure she wasn't being taken advantage of.

"No obligation beyond what you freely offer," Draco told her, his voice smooth and low.

"What's the topic then?"

"The census."

__

That wasn't what she had been expecting to hear. "The _Prophet_ wants me to write an editorial on the census?"

"The _Prophet_ has agreed to run an editorial, written by you, about the census," he corrected. "It's an important topic. Societal demographics are a key political issue these days."

"Why would they ask me, instead of a real writer?"

"They know what they're doing, I suppose. The numbers you'll need are in a folder over there." He gestured to a long, mahogany table that took up an entire side of the room.

Shannon walked over and found the data. She flipped through the sheets, sizing up the graphs and charts. She had always been good with numbers; Arithmancy was her favorite class. As she read, Draco got up and walked around the desk, quietly moving across the room until he stood right behind her.

Shannon frowned. "This can't be right."

"What's wrong with it?"

She didn't turn. "According to this, less than ten percent of magical people can be considered completely pureblood."

"So?" he asked, smug satisfaction washing over him. She was playing right into his hands.

"So, this also says that, compared to purebloods, half bloods and mudbloods have a higher rate of squib birth, which is apparently on the rise, and, look," she pointed out a graph that Draco couldn't make heads or tails of, but he nodded knowledgeably. "If you extrapolate these numbers then the percentage of wizarding births is about to start a decline, while the squibs continue to increase."

Draco rested his hands on the table on either side of her, trapping her in place. "We're a dying breed, Shannon," he murmured in her ear.

Shannon ducked beneath one of his arms and returned to her chair, taking the folder with her. She paged through, concern at the data evident on her face. "There'd be panic if these numbers were made public."

He sat back down in Lucius's chair and fixed her in his intent gaze. He had her right where he wanted her, and now it was just a matter of closing the trap. "Not necessarily. People are a lot stronger than you think. They'd never take the extinction of our race lying down. Already there's a group that's been formed to combat the mudblood problem; a very secret, select organization of wizards and witches, who are loyal to the community and want only to keep it going, free of the taint of muggle blood, which dilutes the powers that are wizarding children's rights by birth."

Shannon gave him an earnest look. "What can I do to help?"

*****

Mike opened the door to the east tower and saw that he had finally reached his goal. Harry sat on the floor watching the sunset. The sky was lit with crimson fire, streaked with the dark purple fingers of night. Harry glanced over at Mike, and then turned his attention back to the window. "How did you find me up here?"

Mike crossed the room. "Process of elimination. I looked every bloody where else."

"You can put your wand away. I'm not going to curse you." 

Mike sized up the older boy. Harry didn't seem angry, just sad. An air of resignation hovered over the Gryffindor's features. Mike stuck his wand in his pocket and took a seat on the floor. An open tin of cookies sat between them. "From Mrs. Weasley?" Mike asked.

Harry nodded, but didn't speak. A muscle worked in his jaw, and as Mike watched, he wondered if Harry was going to stand by his promise not to throw any curses.

They sat next to each other in silence for a while, and just as Mike was starting to think that this was perhaps the most surreal experience of his life, Harry said, "How long?"

"How long what?"

"Don't be stupid. How long have you two been together?"

Mike blinked in surprise. "Together? We're not together."

"But what about—"

"We're not together," Mike restated firmly. "That was just a…thing. I don't know. It's fun. She's always up for a good time and she makes me smile. But she doesn't love me, which is what I know you're worried about. And I don't love her."

Harry finally looked at the Ravenclaw. "You don't?"

"Of course not. And that's why she was snogging me just now instead of you. I don't ask for more than she's willing to give."

"Then you're an idiot," Harry said with finality.

Mike chuckled at that. "Maybe, but it works for me." He took a cookie out of the tin. Harry tried to grab it back, but Mike took a big bite.

They sat without talking for a moment more, and then Mike got up to leave. "Anyway, I just wanted to let you know." There was no reaction from the Gryffindor.

Mike opened the door and was nearly bowled over by a little creature, who raced straight over to Harry. "Harry Potter, sir! Merry Christmas, sir!"

"Merry Christmas, Dobby," Harry said, forcing cheer into his voice for the elf's sake.

"Dobby has a present for you, sir." The elf presented Harry with a pair of socks, emblazoned with Gryffindor lions.

"They're great," Harry said, smiling at the elf. Since he was sitting on the floor, their eyes were level with each other. "Thanks." He realized that he didn't have anything to give in return; he had been too occupied with Ginny to remember a present for Dobby. Harry looked frantically around the room and his gaze rested on Mike, who leaned against the doorframe and watched the scene with interest. Mike held up his half-eaten cookie and gave Harry a significant look. Harry was momentarily confused, then he twigged. "These are for you." He handed Mrs. Weasley's tin to the elf, who sobbed in gratitude.

"Harry Potter is so generous! Dobby will share them with the other elves. Thank you, sir!"

"It's no problem, Dobby. Merry Christmas."

The elf dried his round eyes and handed Harry a folded note. "Dobby must go now, sir. But Dobby will never forget your kindness."

As the elf scooted around Mike, the Ravenclaw leaned down and asked, "Excuse me, is that a tea cozy on your head?"

Harry bristled, thinking Mike was making fun of Dobby, but the elf grinned broadly and said, "It is, sir. Yes, sir."

Mike beamed. "I thought so, but I wasn't sure. The ear holes are a wonderful touch." Harry watched in astonishment as Mike reached out and shook Dobby's small, wrinkled hand. The elf was overcome with emotion at being afforded such respect by a wizard, and took quite a few minutes to collect himself before he could leave.

Once he was gone, Mike turned back to Harry, his eyes brimming with good-natured mirth. For a moment, Harry saw how he must be when he was with Ginny. But the humor vanished as their situation came flooding back. He cleared his throat and said, "I'll just go now, shall I?" The Ravenclaw didn't wait for a response, but left the room and shut the door quietly behind him.

As soon as he was gone, Harry unfolded the note. It was from Dumbledore, asking him to meet at six thirty. Password: figgy pudding.

*****

Harry sat in a chair across from the Headmaster and thought for a moment about the question he'd just been asked. "I'm not really sure when I realized that it was what I wanted to do," he mused. "Ever since fourth year, definitely. It's almost like a calling, you know? I'll help any way I can to win the fight against Voldemort."

Dumbledore nodded in satisfaction. "An admirable goal, Harry. You will no doubt be invaluable in the struggle. I called you up here today to let you know that you are registered to begin training in the fall, and I have made special arrangements so that you may remain near Ginny, who will also be in training."

"Ginny's going to be an auror too?" Harry couldn't help but feel pleased, despite what he had witnessed earlier that day. Being an auror meant a life of excitement and adventure. Mike Fletcher was a born pencil pusher, a bureaucrat at heart, who was destined for a boring career of sitting behind a desk. But, somehow, Harry knew that Mike's job would never be boring, because Mike himself was never boring. That train of thought wasn't making him feel better, so he promptly abandoned it and turned his attention back to Dumbledore.

Behind him, the door to the office swung open. Harry didn't turn around; he could tell who it was. Ginny hesitated, looking at the back of his head, and then sat in the chair beside him. He glanced sideways at her; her gaze was focused straight ahead. A faint blush stained her cheeks. "You wanted to see me, Professor?"

"I did," Dumbledore said, folding his hands on the desktop. "I wanted to discuss arrangements for the next school year. Harry will have to remain nearby to fulfill his duties as your protector. To this end, I have arranged for the two of you to begin auror training in the fall."

Ginny frowned in confusion. "You arranged…what?"

"Ginny, I have discussed the possibility of your becoming a part time student with Professors Figg and McGonagall. They both agree that you're ready to take the N.E.W.T.s in their classes a year early. Apparently you display an astonishing aptitude for Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts."

She spoke slowly, "You…_discussed_ with my professors…"

"I didn't go into specifics. Your identity is still secure," he reassured. "As I've said, I have arranged for you to begin auror training in the fall, during the hours that you would normally have Transfiguration and DADA, and on weekends. Harry will arrange for lodgings in Hogsmeade and join your training."

Ginny still wasn't sure she was hearing correctly. "But what if I don't want to be an auror?"

"Auror training will teach you many necessary skills," Dumbledore explained. "Whether it is your career choice or not, the training will be vital to your success as the Pendragon."

"Did you tell the division that I would be going through the training but might not actually work for them once I'm done?"

"How many people have died thus far to keep you safe?" Dumbledore said by way of answer. "You have a responsibility to them to learn to protect yourself."

"People? What…." She trailed off and her mouth dropped open as the Headmaster's meaning dawned on her. In a slightly strangled voice, Ginny asked, "Harry, would you mind giving us a moment?"

"Gin, I'm not sure—"

"Harry," she said sharply, "nobody is going to attack me in the Headmaster's office. You can wait right outside the door."

"You may stay if you wish, Harry," Dumbledore said.

Looking at him, Harry was strongly reminded of the night of the Triwizard Tournament. Once again a sense of power, like burning heat, surrounded the Headmaster. But, Harry realized, at this moment Ginny was no different. The air about her fairly crackled with barely restrained magical energy. Harry knew when to take his leave. "That's okay, sir. I'll just be right outside."

The moment the door clicked shut, Ginny turned back to Dumbledore and said in a hard voice, "What if I don't _want_ to be an auror? What if I want to be a heart surgeon? Or a geodetic engineer? Or a collage artist?"

He gave her a stern look over his half-moon glasses. "You don't want to be a collage artist."

"How would you know? You never bothered to ask."

"Ginny, after all the good people who have died to keep—"

"To keep me safe, I know. You said that part already." She leapt up from her chair and started to pace. "People like Harry's parents, right? Dying so the protector could live."

"Exactly."

Ginny nodded jerkily, her lips pressed into a thin line. "And that's why it was such a nice touch, then, to have him _sitting right here when you dumped this on me_!" Her tone was cold, her breathing uneven.

"I had him here because he'll undergo the training as well."

Ginny stopped and stared at him, looking slightly wild. "You had him here to guilt me into feeling obligated. Well I'm not going to do it."

"You're not the only one who has to make sacrifices," Dumbledore told her. "Harry _obliviated_ his best friends to keep your identity safe."

"You _obliviated_ his best friends. We both know he never would've _thought_ of that if you hadn't pushed him into it." The room was practically glowing from their clash of wills. When two powerful mages fought, the results were nearly always pyrotechnic.

"It was his choice."

"Only because you didn't give him any others."

"It was a sound decision."

"It was the _wrong_ decision," she countered through clenched teeth.

"You didn't contest it before."

"There's no point, is there? He feels bad enough. Every time he looks at them he thinks of it."

Dumbledore sighed. "The arrangements have been made, Ginny."

She heard the finality in his tone and shook her head. This couldn't be happening. "Tell me I don't have a choice," she said in a low, terrible voice.

"Ginny—"

"_Tell me_ I don't have a choice. Say the words, Dumbledore. Say that you made this decision for me, and I have to abide by it."

In that moment, Dumbledore looked every day of his hundred and fifty years. He said firmly, "The arrangements have been made."

Ginny turned, yanked the door open, and raced blindly down the stairs, right past Harry, who had been sitting on the floor. He jumped up and went after her.

"Gin," he said, catching up to her as they reached the hallway. "Don't run away just yet. I have to talk to you."

She didn't stop. "It can wait."

Harry blocked her path. "It can't. I need to know what's going on between you and Mike. I need to hear it from you."

"Did you know Dumbledore was going to stick me in auror training?"

"Gin—"

"_Did you_?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, he told me—"

She jerked away and started walking. Harry chased after her. "Gin, you owe me the truth."

She stopped in her tracks and looked up into his face. The emotions he saw there, pain, betrayal, and fear, were raw. "I owe _you_?" she asked incredulously. "I owe you shit. You _promised_…you danced with me at the ball and told me you would never…." Ginny was so angry that she could hardly form coherent sentences. "Get one thing straight, Harry James Potter. I don't answer to you. I never _will_ answer to you. And if I want to snog Mike Fletcher, or every other boy in Hogwarts, then I'll do just that and there's not a thing you can do about it. I don't need to _clear_ it with you first. And I don't need to make sure that your _feelings_ won't be hurt. And I sure as hell don't need to _explain_ myself." She raked her hands through her hair, and in that moment, Harry felt an emotion rolling through their link that he hardly would've countenanced had he not known it was genuine. It was grief, rising inside her like a noxious black smoke. She nearly choked with it. "I can't believe you knew about this," she said in a broken whisper. "The two of you sat up there _conspiring_…I just—" she cut off abruptly and walked away without another word.

Harry stood and looked at her retreating form, but didn't follow. He felt numb. She had meant to hurt him as badly as she was hurting, and she had more than succeeded. In that moment, Ginny's grief became his own—she was being forced into a life that wasn't her choice, she was frightened and alone, and she thought that he and Dumbledore, the only two people she could trust, were making life decisions without consulting her first. And so she had lashed out at him with the only weapon she had, at his weakest spot: his love for her. She had been as hurtful as possible, and mocked his need for the truth. No, he wouldn't go after her. He wasn't even sure he could.

Harry felt a hand rest on his shoulder. "She'll come around," Dumbledore said. "She just needs some time." Harry didn't answer, and Dumbledore sighed. "You can't talk to her yet. Give her a few hours to calm down, at least. Why don't you come upstairs and have a cup of tea while you wait?"

*****

After Shannon left, Draco sat alone in the study and basked in the sweetness of victory. That was one hurdle crossed, and now he had two to go. If they were as easy as Cannon had been, he was in for a good night. She now had a guaranteed career in journalism, and Draco had someone who would be loyal to him and keep her eyes open. All in all, it had been a productive evening thus far.

As he sat with his feet on the desk, savoring another tumbler of whiskey, Lucius and Crabbe, Sr., entered the room. Lucius stiffened at seeing Draco's shoes on the antique finish, but swallowed his reprimand. "He wants to see you."

"He can wait." Draco had no intention of hurrying his drink.

"I saw a girl leave here. You may do what you please when it's just the family, but I'd expect you to be more circumspect when we have guests."

Draco laughed at his father's lack of imagination. "I was establishing a relationship with a potentially vital recruit. He'd be proud."

"The Cannon girl? What could you possibly have to say to a Gryffindor?"

"She may be a Gryffindor," Draco said, amused, "but she's also a pureblood. And I was only imparting a little bit of knowledge, which, as you know, is a dangerous thing."

"Still, I don't—"

Draco swung his feet to the floor and stood. "Are you really so short sighted, Lucius? She shares a dorm with Ginny Weasley, the only candidate who isn't being watched. Alicia Avery might be a Hufflepuff, but her father is loyal to us. Stella Screwtape is a Slytherin, so I can keep an eye on her. But Weasley was the wild card, our one liability. We didn't have anyone inside the Gryffindor dorm, or spies close enough to Dumbledore or her family. But now we do. Thank the gods I thought of it, because if left to your own devices you'd still be floundering around. I'm sure he'll agree with me."

Lucius glowered, but didn't respond. Draco smirked. There had been a time when speeches like that had earned him a sharp slap, or a nasty hex. But no more. Lucius hadn't dared lay a hand on him since the day Draco learned of his destiny. Draco passed his father on the way out the door. "You're slippery, Lucius, but you're not very bright. I'm going to fill him in on my progress."

When the younger Malfoy disappeared through the door, Crabbe turned to Lucius and said, "How can you allow insolence like that? If Vincent ever dared speak to me that way—"

"He is the one who was born to give our lord final victory," Lucius interrupted. "And if you ever accord him anything less than the utmost respect, I'll know the reason why."

*****

Ginny walked without knowing where she was going, rounded a corner, and slammed right into Dana. "Steady on," the younger girl said. "Are you all right?"

Ginny tried to walk past, but Dana blocked her way. "I don't want to talk about it," Ginny said, an expression of thunderous warning on her face.

"Are you sure?" Dana pressed. "You look really upset."

"What do you care?" Ginny asked bitterly.

Dana frowned with concern. "I want to help, if there's anything I can do."

With a look so intent that the Slytherin was a bit nervous, Ginny asked, "Why?"

"Well," she answered, "we're friends, sort of, and—"

"Wrong answer," Ginny interrupted. The words tumbled out of her mouth; she was too angry to censor herself. "You care, you bought me this dress and told me all about your parents and now you're offering to help me because somewhere deep inside, where you hold that spark of silver flame, you recognize exactly who I am."

Now Dana was really uneasy. "And who might that be?"

Ginny spread her arms wide. "I'm the Pendragon. Isn't it obvious?"

There was a moment of silence. Then Dana laughed in her face.

"I was almost fooled!" she exclaimed through her giggles. "I mean, sure, I ran across references to the legend while Dee and I did our research. For a moment you really had me going! Have you ever thought about acting? That was brilliant, Gin."

"Forget it," Ginny sighed. "Just forget I said anything."

Dana's laughter abruptly died, and a glassy, unfocused expression slid over her eyes. It was the look of someone who had been _obliviated_. "Dana?" Ginny asked, waving her hand in front of the Slytherin's face. There was no answer. Ginny looked around for help, but the corridor was deserted. "Dammit!"

"Gin?" Dana said foggily. "I'm a bit tired all of a sudden. I think I should lie down for a while."

Ginny wasn't sure about letting the girl walk to the dungeons in her current dreamy state. She didn't want Dana to fall down the stairs. "Are you sure you can make it back to Slytherin without help?"

Dana seemed a bit more together when she answered, "Of course. Merry Christmas, then."

"Merry Christmas," Ginny replied, watching her retreat down the hall. Once she was gone, Ginny leaned against the wall and pressed her hand over her mouth, utterly horrified with herself. How could something like that have happened?

*****

Draco walked down the stone stairs to the dungeon where the Death Eaters had congregated. The party was a front, allowing them to meet without raising any eyebrows. The Minister of Magic himself was present, dancing away right above their heads. There would never be any suggestion of impropriety at a ball attended by Cornelius Fudge. The circle parted when Draco entered, revealing the tall, thin figure standing in the center. Voldemort's red, snake-like eyes fixed on the young man and he gave a ghastly smile of welcome.

Draco didn't bow, didn't kiss the hem of the Dark Lord's robes, and didn't lower his eyes from Voldemort's face. It was a privilege afforded solely to him, as the hinge upon which the Dark Lord's entire plan turned. "You wanted to see me?"

"I understand you met with a friend of one of the candidates."

"I did, Master," Draco confirmed. "She will be useful. Now all three of them are watched."

"She was amenable, then, to our cause?"

He smiled at the Dark Lord. "I've never seen anyone so eager to be convinced."

Voldemort rested his hand on Draco's shoulder in a paternal gesture. "You are a most valued ally," he said, "and when you finish school you will be promoted."

Draco inclined his head. "You are gracious, my lord."

"I am grateful for such a loyal servant. Have you recruited any more young people to our cause?"

Telling the Dark Lord about his true recruitment efforts would get him Avada Kedavraed faster than he could blink. Draco said, "I'm always watching for students with potential." That part, at least, was true.

"Does your mark pain you?"

"Of course not," he answered, unconsciously rubbing his forearm through his sleeve. "I'm proud to wear it."

Voldemort nodded in satisfaction. Then he said, "There's something you're not telling me. Lord Voldemort always knows. What is it?"

"You are wise, master," Draco said. "There _is_ something I'd like to say." This was task number two, and he thought that, of the three, it was by far the hardest one. But the first had been so easy; perhaps he was on a lucky streak. "If I may be so bold, my lord, you are not seeking power in the most efficient way."

Voldemort's grip on his shoulder tightened. "Do you question me, Draco?"

"Never," he said smoothly, "but I think some disloyal Death Eaters may have misinformed you about the state of the Wizarding World."

Now he had the Dark Lord's interest. "What do you suggest?"

"Less violence," Draco told him, cutting right to the heart of the matter. "Right now the people fear you, but they'll never give their loyalty to you and the loyalty of the people is where true power lies. Make them fear the mudbloods, and they'll look to you as their savior. _That's_ when you'll have true control over their minds and hearts. And they'll give it to you freely. You could kill as many as you want, then, and they'd applaud you for it." Draco knew full well that this would never happen, but it didn't matter what he thought as long as Voldemort believed it. "Concentrate on gaining the loyalty of the people through their fear of contamination by muggles, and you won't need the Pendragon for years yet. She may even come to us."

"Your understanding of the masses is clear," Voldemort said thoughtfully. "I will consider what you have said."

Draco knew it was enough for now, so he thanked the Dark Lord and excused himself from the meeting. That had gone well. Now on to task number three.

*****

Ginny felt completely empty. She sat on the floor of the Astronomy tower, looking at the stars, but her mind was a million miles away. She kept playing the scene with Dana over and over in her head. It had been an accident, she knew, but it didn't make her feel any better. She had let her fear get the better of her. It was exactly as Mórrígan had warned her. She also thought about her tantrum in the hall outside Dumbledore's office. Lashing out at Harry had been a childish defense mechanism and Ginny was thoroughly ashamed.

She knew the moment Harry entered the room, even though he made no sound. The tower filled with a red-orange glow when he lit a fire in the grate. Ginny asked, "How did you find me up here?"

"The link."

She didn't speak, didn't know what to say.

Harry cleared his throat and then said haltingly, "I only found out about the auror training five seconds before you walked in."

Ginny didn't answer. He looked at her back, very straight in the green velvet dress, and then turned to leave. "I believe you." Harry stopped; hardly sure he had heard the quiet words she had spoken.

"Why?" he asked. "Did you use your sight to see I'm telling the truth?"

"No. I just believe you."

Harry stood by the door a moment more, and then crossed the room. He sat on the rug behind her, and Ginny leaned against him, soaking up the reassuring warmth of his chest against her back. She closed her eyes and let Harry hold her. Just for a while, she told herself. They were silent; both wrapped in their own thoughts. Ginny knew he was still hurt, but he also respected her desire for quiet. That was Harry, always so damned noble. Always putting her first. She had given him one more thing to brood over today. Ginny honestly didn't want to add to his troubles, but she seemed destined to do just that.

She opened her eyes and looked through the windows at the forest beyond. The glow from the fire turned the glass into a vague, shadowy mirror, superimposing their transparent reflections over the snowy night outside. "I made a terrible mistake after I left you today."

Harry's arms tightened around her waist. "Whatever it is, we can fix it."

Ginny sighed. "I don't think we can."

He rested his chin on top of her head. "Then we'll find a way to work around it."

"Harry—"

"Please," he interrupted, his voice raw, "please can't we sit here together for just a minute without having to think about…just let me sit here with you. Let me have this, and we'll talk about the rest later."

Ginny's heart constricted with guilt. He was truly hurt, and she was responsible. "I'm scared," she whispered in an attempt to explain. "I'm just so damn scared. Of everything. And I keep telling myself that a true Gryffindor would, I don't know, charge right into the fray, wand drawn, but I'm not sure I even know who the enemy is anymore and that's the most terrifying thing of all. The Pendragon should be fearless and I can't even…maybe this means I'm a failure before I've even started, but I _can't_ just let him…." She was rambling, and cut herself off before she did something really embarrassing, like cry.

Harry pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "It's not brave if you're not scared, Gin," he said, his breath warm against her ear.

She met his eyes in the reflection on the window. "What isn't?"

"Everything." He tilted his head so that his cheek rested against her hair. "Bravery, true bravery, comes from being afraid of something and doing it anyway."

He wasn't talking about becoming an auror. In that moment Ginny felt awful. He loved her, but she wasn't ready to accept such an awesome gift. It was too soon; she was terrified of losing more of herself than she already had. Instead of accepting his feelings, she had thrown them in his face and the magnitude of what she'd done, how deeply she'd cut him, was just sinking in. And now here he was, seeking solace from his pain in the person who was the source of it. "I'm so sorry," she said quietly. "So, so sorry. I misunderstood. I never would've told you—"

"You meant every word," he interrupted, a trembling edge to his voice that she hadn't heard before. "Don't you dare claim you didn't mean every word."

"I never should've said it the way I did. I took my fear out on you, and you deserve better than what I gave you today."

At her statement, something in Harry's chest untwisted. Her apology was completely sincere. It had been offered freely and simply, without rationalizations or excuses. There was nothing but friendship between her and Mike Fletcher. In that moment, he knew it as surely as he knew his own name. Harry pulled her close. "There's nothing I wouldn't forgive you for."

How long they sat on the tower floor, Ginny didn't know. She was just beginning to drift off, though, when a light outside caught her eye. She disentangled herself from Harry's arms and padded over to the window. "Gin?" Harry asked. "What are you doing?"

"I thought I saw something weird," she said, scanning the grounds.

"What is it?"

Ginny opened the window and leaned out, looking towards Hogsmeade. The cold air woke her instantly. Another flash of light went off. "I don't know. I think it's fireworks." Ginny watched the green stars rise into the sky. Perhaps these were the new Filibuster Festive Rockets she'd heard about. Her interest in the display abruptly vanished, however, as the light finally took its form. A leering skull floated above the snow. A thick snake wound out of its mouth like a gruesome tongue.

"Oh my God," she said in a low voice. "Oh my God, Harry, it's the Dark Mark."

Like a shot, Harry was on his feet and leaning out the window beside her. A second mark erupted into the sky. As the two students stood in dumbfounded horror, the far-away screams of the villagers floated to them on the breeze and The Three Broomsticks exploded in flames.

"Come on," Harry said, grabbing her hand. "We have to get Dumbledore."

The two students ran down the stairs and straight for the Headmaster's office.

*****

Draco slipped into the small room off the fourth floor hall. Blaise Zambini waited for him inside. "How did it go?"

"He promised me a promotion."

Blaise gave a low whistle. "Another one?"

Draco smirked. "I'm going to be second in command before I'm twenty five." He stated it as fact, and Blaise knew it would happen.

"Why does he favor you so much? He's barely said three words to me since I signed up; most of my instructions come through your father."

"Isn't it obvious? He wants to keep me happy because he thinks I'm going to hand him the Pendragon on a silver platter."

Blaise raised his eyebrows. "He thinks?"

Draco put his arm around the other boy's shoulders and led him away from the door. One could never be too careful of eavesdroppers. "What kind of Slytherin would I be if I turned that kind of power over to someone else instead of keeping it for myself?"

"You mean—"

Draco nodded, his eyes locked with his dormmate's. "And I hope, my friend, that when the time comes, I can count on you for support."

Blaise could hardly believe his ears. Draco Malfoy was plotting a coup. "How many people have you talked to so far?"

"Some. There will be more. I bought us time tonight, told him to hold off on the killing and torture. They're wreaking havoc on Hogsmeade as we speak, and when it doesn't work he'll be even more convinced that I'm correct. If we're not running around doing his bidding every night, we'll have a chance to fully develop our powers and our faction will gain strength. By the time he catches on, it will be too late."

"What if the Pendragon won't agree to help?"

Draco ticked the candidates off on his fingers. "I talked to Avery several months ago, and she agreed to join our number. If she's the one, we won't have any trouble at all. Screwtape is an idiot. She won't be hard to convince."

"Isn't there a third?"

Now Draco's face was grim. "Ginny Weasley."

"She'll be impossible."

"Nothing is impossible, Blaise. If it's Weasley, perhaps she'll be open to persuasion. Everyone has a price. And if she can't be bought, she has six expendable brothers. I'm sure we could make her see things our way. For now, we can hope that it's one of the other two. The odds are in our favor, so I'm not worried."

"But won't you have to protect the Pendragon? How can you use her, whoever she is, to set yourself up in Voldemort's place if you have to keep her safe?" A typical Slytherin, Blaise was determined to test the plan for loopholes before signing on.

"The prophecy doesn't say anything about keeping her safe, only keeping her alive. That won't be a problem, because she's no good to us dead, is she?"

"You've thought this through carefully. A new order of dark wizards!"

Draco laughed. "There is no light and dark. There is only power, and those too weak to use it. The Dark Lord told me that on my initiation day, and I've never had better advice. I want his power, Blaise, and through the Pendragon, I will have it. We'll bide our time and, once we've gained enough strength within the existing Death Eater organization and she's under our control, we'll make our move."

"What then?" Blaise asked in a hushed tone.

The corner of Draco's mouth turned up in a half-smile. "Then I'll be running things, won't I? With the power of the Pendragon behind me, no one will dare challenge my claim. And when that day comes, Blaise, I will remember who my friends and enemies are. Which will you be?"

Blaise knew he would never advance very far in Voldemort's hierarchy. But here was Draco, offering him the chance to get in at the very beginning of a new organization, where he might go far indeed. He stuck out his hand, and Draco shook. The contractual magic flowed between them, and Draco smiled. "I knew I could count on you."

*****

Dumbledore raced down the stairs and saw Harry and Ginny running toward him, hand in hand. Both students looked stricken. "Professor!" Harry exclaimed. He and Ginny talked over each other. "In Hogsmeade—"

"It's the Dark Mark!"

"There's fire—"

"People are screaming—"

"I know," Dumbledore said quickly. "I have to go. Harry, take Ginny upstairs and wait for me there."

"We could help," Harry said, drawing his wand.

"You both have other responsibilities," Dumbledore said firmly. "You can best serve the cause by going to my office and waiting for me there. I'll be back soon." With those words, the second most powerful mage of the time turned and raced down the hall as though he wasn't a day over twenty.

"He'll be all right," Ginny said, sensing Harry's worry. "Voldemort isn't out there. It's just Death Eaters."

Harry laughed humorlessly. "_Just_ Death Eaters. I feel better then. How do you know?"

Ginny thought about that for a moment. "It's in the music," she said. "I'd hear if Voldemort was nearby, and he's not. Plus, your scar would be going crazy if he were as close as the village."

She had a point. "Let's go," Harry said grimly. "At least there's a window up there."

In the office, Harry and Ginny didn't speak. There was nothing to say. They were both glued to the window, watching the far-off skirmish. The village burned beneath the leering green skull and flashes of magic lit the sky like an aurora borealis. The tension was terrible. Just when Ginny thought she could bear it no longer, there was a loud thunderclap, and a light that turned the night as bright as day. Then, all went still.

"What happened?" Harry asked.

"I don't know."

"Can't you look?" He was desperately running through ways to smuggle her out of the castle, in case the Death Eaters had been victorious.

Ginny opened her sight. She had used it earlier that day on the Silvermoons, after all, and this was infinitely more important. "It's over," Ginny pronounced. "The professors drove them away. Dumbledore did a huge spell, but I've never seen it before so I can't tell you what it is." As she spoke, the fires began to extinguish one by one.

Harry sighed in relief and leaned his forehead against the cold glass. "Thank the gods," he whispered, slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her close, reassuring himself that she was there and real, warm and safe. And alive. Above all, alive. Ginny recognized that he needed to hold her much more than she needed to be held, so she didn't pull away. That was how Dumbledore found them when he entered the office.

"Is everyone all right?" Harry asked, her voice muffled against Ginny's shoulder. He pulled a back a bit and continued, "Is anyone hurt?"

Dumbledore sank into an armchair and conjured a steaming cup of tea. He looked exhausted. "Professors Sprout and Vector were hexed quite badly. Madame Rosmerta is severely burned, and Professor Figg has a broken arm. They are all in the hospital wing, and Madame Pomfrey has assured me that they will recover."

"Why would Death Eaters attack so close to the school, and come without Voldemort?" Harry asked. "They must have known they'd never succeed."

"They weren't trying to take the school,' Dumbledore said, draining his cup. "They were trying to draw out the Pendragon."

"Maybe not," Harry protested. "How can you be sure?"

Dumbledore stood. "Because all three candidates are in the castle at this moment, it's Christmas so the villagers would be caught off guard, and it's exactly what I'd do if I were in his position."

Harry couldn't argue with that, so he asked, "Did you get any of them?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "We stunned a few, but the Death Eaters took them by portkey as they left."

"What now?"

"They'll try again, and soon. The teachers will take steps to fortify the castle and surrounding areas. But first, we must gather the students together and tell them what has happened. As for you two, go back to Gryffindor Tower and try to get some sleep. That's the best advice I can give."

Harry nodded, and he and Ginny left. The Headmaster watched them disappear down the revolving stairs, and realized that Ginny hadn't spoken a single word during the whole exchange. She had forgiven Harry for whatever his transgression may have been, but she was still angry as hell with Dumbledore.

*****

Harry looked into the fire that burned low in the hearth of the Gryffindor common room. Ginny was curled up against him on the couch, dead to the world. It had been a stressful, emotional day for both of them, and she was thoroughly exhausted. Just being near him had been enough to lull her into sleep, but Harry, though tired, was still awake. He played with her hair, letting the red-gold tendrils shift and fall through his fingers as he thought about Voldemort, the Death Eaters, becoming an auror, and Ginny's role in the struggle. Voldemort was looking for her. Dumbledore had said so, and Harry believed him. That meant constant vigilance, and he knew she wasn't going to like it at all.

The portrait swung open, and Ron and Hermione crawled through the hole. "Where have you two been?" Hermione asked. "Did you hear—"

"We saw Dumbledore," Harry whispered, not wanting to wake Ginny. "He told us all about it. She was pretty shaken up, so I brought her back here. Where's Gwen?"

"I think she was going to sneak a night in the Ravenclaw dorms." Hermione looked like she wanted very much to take points off, but couldn't because technically school wasn't in session. "Are you all right? When you weren't there, we thought something had happened."

"I'm just fine," Harry said, although it wasn't true. There was nothing Ron or Hermione could do about his problems, though, so he wasn't going to trouble them with an account of the day.

Hermione understood. She turned and kissed Ron goodnight, sent a weary smile towards Harry, and then went up the stairs on the girls' side.

Ron stood in the center of the room, watching his best friend stroke his little sister's hair. Harry met his eyes unapologeticly. "Do you have anything to tell me?" Ron asked.

Harry shook his head. "Not that I can think of."

"What's all this then?" Ron's mouth was pressed into a thin line, and he didn't look happy at all. "I'm not stupid, Harry. I saw you and Mike this morning before lunch."

Harry sighed. "Can it wait until tomorrow?"

"No, it can't."

"Ron, please. It's been a long day, and the Dark Mark is still flying over Hogsmeade. I'll answer all your questions in the morning."

Harry could see that his friend wasn't happy at all with having to wait. But still, it would've been pointless to insist on talking now, since Harry wasn't about to say anything. 

"Just quit playing with her hair, all right?" Harry's hand stilled, and Ron nodded. "That's better." When he reached the stairs to the boys' dorms, he turned and said, "Tomorrow then. You're not getting out of it."

"I wasn't even going to try," Harry answered, tired and pensive. Ron ascended the stairs without another word.

Ginny was still sound asleep an hour later. Harry was growing drowsy himself, so he shook her shoulder gently. "Gin, it's time to go to bed," he murmured in her ear. She made a sleepy noise and shifted a bit, but didn't wake up. Harry tried a few more times, but it was hopeless. She was out for the night. He carefully picked her up, and carried her up the girls' stairs.

Harry pulled the comforter back and laid Ginny on the mattress. She couldn't very well sleep the way she was, so he slid the glass slippers off her feet and set them neatly under the bed. Next to go were the firestones in her ears and the name bracelet around her wrist; he laid the jewelry on her night table so it wouldn't get lost. Then he took down her topknot, pin by pin. He didn't want any of them to poke her, should she roll over. Harry sat next to her and ran his fingers gently through her hair, making sure he hadn't missed a single one. Then he did it again just for the pleasure of touching her. She instinctively snuggled up against him, and it was just too much temptation. He was only human after all. Harry laid the hairpins on the table next to her jewelry, took off his glasses and set them down too. Then, he pulled off his shoes, closed the bed curtains, and curled up next to her, pulling the blanket over them. He was asleep as soon as he closed his eyes.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

Want to join a group of cool people who talk about "The Rebirth," read cookies and outtakes, and inspire me on a regular basis? Join the HP Pendragon yahoo group! groups.yahoo.com/group/HPPendragon. I'd love to see you there.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone who reviewed. Reviews are what keep the story going, and your feedback is my payment for writing.

On ffn: MaxCat2564; DRI; EarthAngel; and Arianna Maeve

On schnoogle: Erin Potter reviewed the prologue. Karei reviewed chapters 6 and 7. Aylapascal, LoveGordon, KobeG, and T reviewed chapter 7.

By email: Elizabeth, little monzta, Tiffany, and Petrie.

Thanks as well to the people who reviewed on the HP Pendragon list and the Queens of H/G list.

Drop me a line anytime at irina@schnoogle.com. I always write back, and I love hearing from you.

The chapter has now ended.


	10. The Pensieve

Title: The Rebirth—Chapter 9 "The Pensieve" (9/11)  
Author name: Irina   
Author email: irina@schnoogle.com

Category: drama, romance  
Keywords: Ginny, destiny, angst, romance, drama  
Spoilers: All four books  
Rating: R

Summary: So why _did_ Voldemort try to kill Harry? An ancient power has reawakened and the answers to all the mysteries lie with Ginny Weasley.  


Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The poem Draco quotes is "If" by Rudyard Kipling. The basic premise of Moody's death was borrowed from the movie _Scream_, although the details are mine.

A/N: Thanks to Danette and DRI for plying their beta skills on my little story. Danette gets an extra thank you for jump-starting my brain with the Seamus/Harry scene. Thanks to Karei for her tips on how to write gore and for reading the rough draft and giving me a play-by-play of her reactions. Check out her story, "Years of the Snake," on schnoogle. You won't be sorry. Thanks to my fantastic muses on the HP Pendragon mailing list for helping me to understand Ron; they're a wonderful group. If you want to join them, point your browser to groups.yahoo.com/group/HPPendragon. I'd love to see you there. Finally, thanks to Danielle, whose post on the mailing list saved me from a terrible character mistake.

****

Special Announcement: Up to this point, the story has been PG-13. As of now, though, the rating has been upped to R. The last scene in this chapter has some violence that may not be appropriate for younger readers. You have been warned.

****

Chapter 9

The Pensieve

__

December 25, 1997—Malfoy Manor

When the Death Eaters returned from their Hogsmeade rampage, Draco knew right away that they'd been unsuccessful. They carried their fallen comrades, and looked dejected to a one. He figured they were anticipating the punishment the Dark Lord dealt to those who failed him. For a moment Draco wondered if the limp bodies were dead, but quickly discarded that notion. Dumbledore was too firmly ensconced in his own moral superiority to ever use Unforgivable Curses.

"What happened?" Draco asked, even though the answer to his question was obvious.

"There were too many of them," one of the men replied.

"Too many? How many is too many?" 

They shuffled their feet nervously. He sighed, exasperated. "You couldn't even get a count? I take that to mean the mission was a complete failure?" He hoped it was so. Failure would go a long way towards convincing Voldemort to stop looking for the Pendragon. 

"Not a complete failure," one of them offered tentatively. 

"Explain yourself," he ordered.

"We saw her," the Death Eater said earnestly. "But she got away." 

"Who is she then?" Draco's face was a carefully aloof mask, but his mind raced a hundred miles an hour, adjusting his plan to fit around this new information. 

"A girl with red hair."

He gave the man a sharp look. "Red hair?" It was Weasley then. Christ! Could this get any worse?

The man nodded eagerly. "Red hair. Short little thing. She blocked a curse with silver magic. Was in the village with a bloke named Seamus."

Draco's expression betrayed none of his utter shock. Red hair and a boy named Seamus could only mean Dana Silvermoon. She couldn't be the Pendragon, of course, but these men didn't know who she was, or that she hadn't been born on the proper day. Draco had no idea where Dana fit in, but if she had any Otherworldly power then her twin did too. And _that_ would come in handy.

"Idiots," he said angrily. "The Pendragon was in your grasp and you let her escape! The Dark Lord will make you the next sacrifice for this. His vengeance is absolute." 

He saw the fear in their eyes and felt a surge of triumph. The situation was salvageable. One of the minions begged, "Please, isn't there anything you can do?"

Draco arched an eyebrow. "What are you suggesting? Our Lord would've accepted that Dumbledore kept the Pendragon safely locked in the castle, but knowing that you had her in your grasp and let her go…" His lips curved up in a wicked smile. "There's nothing that can save you now."

"Does he have to know?" one of them asked. "Can't you just tell him that she wasn't there?" 

Draco shook his head. "Lie to our master? Never." 

"Please," another one begged. "You won't find servants more loyal than we are. We'll serve you faithfully. It will never happen again." 

"All right," Draco said, thinking that this was really too easy. "I'll tell him that she wasn't in the village. But each and every one of you now owes me a life debt. Don't forget, because someday I'm going to collect."

*****

__

December 26, 1997—Hogwarts

Ginny crept back into consciousness. Sleep felt so nice; she didn't want to wake up. Her bed was warm and comfortable, and she just wanted to sink back into her dreams. Maybe she would do just that, depending on what time it was. Without opening her eyes, Ginny stuck her hand outside the bed curtains and groped around on her night table for her watch. She felt her jewelry, a pile of hairpins, glasses…_glasses_! Her eyes flew open and she looked through the gap between the velvet bed hangings and the wall. Glasses. On her night table. Where no glasses should've been. Ginny let the curtain drop back into place and rolled over, right onto Harry, who was still sound asleep. One of his arms was thrown over his head; the other wound around her and held her close the moment she was near enough.

Ginny was too surprised to move away. She tried to remember the events of the night before, to piece together how exactly Harry wound up sleeping in her bed. They came back from Dumbledore's office, but neither one of them had wanted to be alone in their dorms, so they waited on the sofa for Ron and Gwen to return. After that, Ginny didn't remember. She must have fallen asleep. Her mind tripped along possible scenarios, but she quickly lost patience. Facts weren't reached through speculation, so she opened up her sight. He had carried her upstairs, and…. It was a good thing Ginny was lying down, because she felt suddenly weak at the image that sprang into her mind, of Harry removing her jewelry and taking down her topknot. Of his fingers touching her skin and running through her hair while she slept unaware. For a moment she balked at the notion that his innocent action could provoke such a strong reaction, but she wasn't really surprised. After all, this was _Harry_. If there was ever anyone who could make her heart beat faster with just a look it was him, no matter how she tried to ignore it. Never was she so _aware_ of herself as when she was with him. And, at the same time, never was she so aware of the fact that he would settle for nothing less than all of her, and he would be perfectly content with nothing until she was ready to give him everything. There would never be an in between. Not for them.

Ginny suddenly felt very warm, and tried to shift out of his hold. He stirred and she stilled, not wanting to wake him and deal with the inevitable discussion. This was an awkward situation if there ever was one, and she wasn't sure exactly what etiquette dictated one should say when one woke up next to someone whom one did not expect but was not all together unhappy to see.

Mulling over that idea, Ginny rested her chin on Harry's chest and gazed at him pensively. She could never look her fill when he was awake; he always managed to catch her, and she didn't want him to think she was staring. He looked older without his glasses, less vulnerable, harder somehow. He was nice looking, she supposed. It was his eyes that made the difference, though. Whether they shone with humor or anger, sparkled with triumph after a Quidditch victory or flashed with determination while plotting how to protect her from the Death Eaters in Hogsmeade, his eyes were what made him remarkable. She was glad they were still closed. And then they weren't.

Ginny immediately decided to make the first move. That was the best way. Of doing what, she didn't know. "Hi," she whispered.

Harry looked slightly chagrined, as though he had been caught doing something that he wasn't supposed to be doing. Ginny supposed that, in a way, he had. "Did you sleep well?" he asked.

She remembered the last time he had asked that, the day after the Halloween ball. She had been terrified of him that morning but today she was determined to take control of the situation and, although she had no idea exactly what was going to happen, at least it would be on her terms. "I did, thanks. You?"

His lips turned up in a gentle smile. "Never better." Harry wondered what had come over him. Curling up next to her had seemed like the most natural thing in the world last night, but he hadn't considered her reaction upon waking up. Still, she didn't look angry yet which was an encouraging sign.

"Harry," she said quietly, with genuine curiosity, "what are you doing here?"

"Where?" he asked, stalling while he tried to think of a plausible explanation. "In your room or in your bed?"

Ginny's blush soared all the way up to her hairline. "Both."

She was still sorry for hurting him yesterday, Harry thought, or she wouldn't be so calm. That, or she was too surprised to react properly. But maybe she was happy to see him, an idea that made Harry's heart speed up. He realized she was still waiting for an answer, and he decided honesty would be best. She'd know right away if he gave her anything less than the truth. "I wanted to stay."

Ginny took a deep breath and said evenly, "I'm not sure that's—" She cut off abruptly as he wound his other arm around her waist and looked up into her eyes.

"I wanted to stay," he repeated softly. "I didn't want to be apart from you. When I carried you upstairs I meant to leave, but I just couldn't do it."

That uncomfortable heat intensified, and Ginny tried to squirm away. Harry's arms closed around her and he said tightly, "Gin, maybe you'd better hold still."

She froze and looked down at him. His entire body was tense. Fortunately, she didn't think her face could get much redder than it already was. "Sorry."

He gave her a reassuring half-smile and idly threaded his fingers through her hair.

"I'm confused."

She didn't realize she had spoken out loud until she heard his answer.

"I know."

Brown eyes locked with green. Without knowing why, only knowing that in that moment it was what they both wanted, she lowered her mouth to his. He met her halfway.

Ginny's heart pounded in her ears. Without breaking their kiss, Harry traced his fingers lightly over her face, memorizing every plane and curve. She shivered at the caress, which was both deliberate and gentle. Like Harry himself. She mirrored his actions, trailing her fingertips lightly across his cheekbones, but quickly lost patience and tangled her hands in his unruly hair, marveling at how thick it was.

Harry tried to keep the kiss soft, but Ginny wouldn't let him. When she caught his lower lip between her teeth he groaned and, in one smooth motion, rolled them both over. He reveled in the feeling of having her beneath him, in their tangle of limbs and wrinkled clothes, in her breath against his lips and her body under his hands. Elation sang through him. The last time he had kissed her, _really_ kissed her, in the Astronomy Tower, she had been too stunned at his confession of love to fully participate. But here, right now, she was kissing him with desire equal to his own. What's more, she had started it.

Ginny couldn't keep a thought in her head. Harry's weight crushed her into the mattress and his kiss, demanding and tender, if there could be such a thing, made her head spin. Her stomach was tied in knots, but somehow it felt good, and right.

His palm skated up her leg, over her hip, and around her rib cage. When his hand closed over her breast, Ginny groaned against his mouth. His name was the only word she could manage. "Harry."

The moment she spoke, he froze. His hands pulled away and fisted on the mattress. He broke off the kiss and dropped his forehead to the sheet beside her head, his cheek against hers. His breath echoed hot and ragged against her ear, and she knew she sounded much the same way. "Harry," she said, turning her head to face him. "I think—"

"You don't know what you think," he interrupted, turning to her. He saw passion in her eyes, and even some measure of emotion, but they were tainted by the guarded expression she had worn around him ever since their link opened up. Right now, she simply couldn't give him the relationship he wanted, and Harry would be damned before he'd let her think of him the way she thought of Mike Fletcher. For his own sanity, and hers, he had to maintain some measure of distance and give her time to sort things out, no matter how hard it was going to be. He pushed himself into a sitting position and looked down at her, his chest still heaving as he struggled to get his body under control.

Ginny sat up and pushed her hair out of her face, but didn't contradict his statement. She _didn't_ know what she wanted, and she wasn't going to be capable of rational thought as long as he looked at her that way, kissed her that way. She was dazed after what had been the most amazing fifteen minutes of her life, and flustered that he had ended it so abruptly.

Harry pushed the hangings open and moved to the edge of the bed, bracing his arms on the mattress on either side of him. Ginny shifted so that she was sitting next to him, and he tilted his head to get a better look at her. "I'm sorry, Gin. I shouldn't have—"

"I started it," she interrupted. "You're the one who finished it." Ginny didn't know whether she was happy or not that he had done so, and the resulting frustration and uncertainty put her on edge.

Harry was silent for a moment. Then he said decisively, "It won't happen again."

"Why not?"

Now he turned to face her and his hand, trembling slightly, reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and then cupped her cheek. Just as he had done in the living room at the Burrow, on the morning of the day she first met Mórrígan. So much had changed since then, but when it came to him she still felt like the same Ginny. She was still afraid of letting him too close, of allowing him to share in her triumphs and failures, of giving away so much of herself that there would be nothing left for her. And yet, somehow, Ginny knew she was halfway there already. At the ball he had told her that he knew how she felt about him. Was there something there that he could sense through the link, but was hidden from her? All she knew was that Harry terrified her. Or, rather, the depth of what she could feel for him, if she let herself, terrified her.

He followed her train of thought, saw that she was making peace with something, coming to a realization. He gently stroked his thumb across her cheek and looked at her with all the love in his heart reflected in the emerald pools of his eyes. "It won't happen again until you're ready to acknowledge what's between us. Anything less and I'd feel cheated."

Ginny looked down at her hands, which plucked at the bedspread. "It might be a while."

"I don't care. You're worth the wait."

Harry leaned in and pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth. She felt the whisper of his breath against her skin, and then he pulled away and stood. "I'll be downstairs."

Without a word, she watched him go.

*****

Seamus woke slowly, trying to puzzle out why he couldn't see the curtains on his four-poster. The soft chiming of his wand, which grew louder by the second, jump-started his memory. He wasn't in his dorm; he was in the common room, lying across two couches pushed together, with Dana Silvermoon sleeping soundly beside him. He was still for a moment, and then sat up and looked at Dana. She had half-curled into the fetal position; her back nestled against his side. Seamus listened carefully, but didn't hear anyone stirring yet. He reached out and gently shook Dana's shoulder. "It's time to wake up."

"Mmmm," was the only response he got.

"Come on, Dana," he said, leaning over her slumbering from, "you need to get up before any—" His words, however, cut off as a pair of arms circled his neck and Dana planted a kiss on him.

Grinning mischievously, she said, "Good morning, Seamus. You snore. Did you know?"

Caught off guard, he said, "No I don't," but got no further since at that moment she sat up and jumped from the makeshift bed.

Dana grabbed her robes from the floor and pulled them on over her jeans and turtleneck. "Thanks again, Seamus. I'd better get back to my dorm before I'm missed."

Still flustered, he said, "Right," and tried to climb over the arm of the sofa, only to discover his legs were tangled in the covers. Dana's soft peals of laughter mixed with his grumbling as he extricated himself. Finally free, he climbed out to join her. "Will I see you later?"

She smiled. "At breakfast, I suppose." Then her face turned serious. "Thanks for everything yesterday, Seamus. I've never been so scared as when the pub caught on fire, but you were fantastic, really. I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't been there."

Seamus walked her over to the portrait hole. "Can I tell you a secret? I was scared too."

"Oh?" she asked, eyebrows raised. "I never would've guessed."

He gave her one last hug, wrinkling his nose at the smoky smell that wafted from her hair. "Rotten luck, that Dark Wizards would attack on Christmas. It was our one day to spend in the village together until the next Hogsmeade weekend."

"It's rotten luck that Dark Wizards would attack _at all_, don't you think?" Dana continued tentatively, "I'm free on the next Hogsmeade weekend, if Dumbledore is still going to let students go. Maybe we'll have better luck next time."

Seamus grinned. "It's a date." He ducked his head down, kissed her quickly, and then pulled the portrait shut as she left. He turned to go up to his dorm, and saw Harry standing near the stairs, looking at him. Seamus nearly jumped out of his skin. "Don't you make any noise when you move?"

Harry asked, "Was that Dana Silvermoon?" His eyes wandered over the common room, taking in the sofas pushed together, Seamus's comforter piled in a tangled heap at one end. "Looks like you two got pretty comfortable."

"We were in Hogsmeade last night," Seamus said. "We just wanted to get away from the school for a few hours. When the pub blew up we were inside, and when we managed to get out, the Death Eaters cornered us in the alley."

Harry stared. "Oh my God. Really? Are you both all right?"

"I don't know," Seamus said. "Did you know she can do Old Magic?" Harry shook his head, and Seamus frowned. "I thought Ginny might have mentioned it, since Dana has been spending so much time around her lately. She did some of it yesterday; rebounded a pretty nasty curse. And then they tried to grab her. Would've done, too, if the teachers hadn't shown up." [A/N: For the full story, check out the Chapter 8 outtake in the files section of the HP Pendragon yahoo group. groups.yahoo.com/group/HPPendragon]

Harry thought he should cross the room, clap Seamus on the back or something. The Irish boy looked to be in a bad way. "But you're both all right?"

He nodded. "She was pretty shaken up last night. I didn't want her going back to her dorm alone, so I brought her back here. Nothing happened, and I know she's a Slytherin and everything but—"

"Seamus," Harry interrupted, "it's okay. I've got plenty on my mind right now without getting angry that you brought your girlfriend to our common room."

Seamus blushed at that. "Girlfriend?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Isn't she?"

"Dunno," Seamus mumbled.

"Well," Harry said, "I'm going to shower before Ron wakes up. He's in a right mood; you'll probably want to avoid him for a while today." He cleared his throat. "I really am glad you're okay, mate."

"Thanks," Seamus said as he crossed the room and grabbed his comforter from the sofa. Harry followed him up the stairs.

*****

An hour later, Harry sat in an armchair and stared out the window at the village in the distance. The Dark Mark was still there, and wouldn't disappear completely for another two or three days. Green light dripped down the skull in thick, heavy rivulets. It was like watching a candle melt, and made the emblem even more gruesome than it had been the day before. Someone cleared his throat, and Harry turned to see Ron standing in the center of the room, arms crossed over his chest, a black scowl on his face. "What's going on?" he demanded.

Harry sighed inwardly. This wasn't going to be easy, but answering all of Ron's questions as best as he could was the only way he was going keep this friendship intact. He didn't want another Triwizard Tournament debacle. Harry got to his feet and faced his friend. "What do you want to know?"

Ron wasn't having it. "Don't give me that 'I'm so open and won't pull anything behind your back' crap. You slept with my sister last night."

"Don't be daft."

"I'm not blind, Harry. You think I didn't see how you acted toward Mike? And then when Hermione and I came up and you and Ginny were on the sofa, and you didn't come upstairs last night…I'm not _blind_."

"I never said you were," Harry answered, keeping his voice calm. "And I said I'd answer your questions. The thing is, you haven't asked any yet."

Ron took a step toward Harry, who held his ground. "Do you have feelings for Ginny?"

"I'm in love with her."

Ron's face went very white. He stared at Harry, who raised his eyebrows and asked, "Is that all, or is there anything more you wanted to know?"

Ron was still stuck on Harry's announcement, the matter-of-fact way he said it. He wasn't embarrassed or apologetic, just completely sincere. Blunt, even. "Since when?" Ron managed to croak.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know."

"What the hell do you mean you don't know!" Ron shouted. "You think you're in love with my little sister and you can't even tell me—"

"I don't _think_ I'm in love with her," Harry interrupted. "I am. I can't help it, and I didn't choose it, but I wouldn't trade it for anything. That's just the way it is." His tone was firm, but not confrontational. He didn't want to anger Ron any more than had already been done.

"Did you even think of her? Your life is in danger every minute of every day, and now you've dragged Ginny into it. You-Know-Who is just _waiting_ for an opportunity to…he attacked Hogsmeade yesterday, for Christ's sake!"

Harry studied his shoes and let Ron vent his fear for his sister without interruption. He couldn't very well say that Ginny was the _reason_ his life was in danger from Voldemort, so he remained silent.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" Ron's exclaimed, his voice rough with anxiety for Ginny's welfare. "My sister's already been You-Know-Who's victim once, and she almost _died_. Do you have any idea what that put my family through? Have you even considered what might happen to her now that you two are together? How can you—"

"We're not together," Harry cut in.

This took the wind right out of Ron's sails. "You're not...what? What do you mean? You just told me that you two are in—"

"I never said anything about her."

Ron sank onto a sofa and fixed his friend with a bewildered stare. "But that's impossible. Of course she loves you. She's always been mad about you."

Harry sat next to Ron and shook his head. "That was just a crush. She's over it by now, I promise."

"Does she know how you…I mean, have you told her?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

"And what? We're not together. You can figure it out."

"Do you want me to say something to her?" Ron asked.

"I'd rather you didn't." Harry was relieved that Ron wasn't furious anymore, although he couldn't quite understand why.

"Say something to me about what?" Ginny asked as she came down the girls' stairs, freshly showered and wearing her new Weasley sweater and a pair of old jeans.

"We weren't talking about you," Harry answered before Ron could speak up.

"Yes you were. Say something to me about what?"

"About how you're breaking Harry's heart, that's what," Ron said sharply.

Harry dropped his head in his hands and groaned. This was beyond embarrassing. He hoped she wouldn't think he'd put Ron up to it. Still, there was nothing to do now but to stick it out. "Ron, stop it."

"Who says I'm breaking his heart?" Ginny asked. _I'm not, am I?_

__

Of course not, Harry answered quickly.

"He's in love with you!" Ron exclaimed.

Harry wanted to sink through the floor.

"Ron," Ginny said evenly, "this really couldn't be any less your business."

"He's my friend and if you're leading him on—"

"I'm not!"

"Could you two please not have this conversation while I'm sitting right here?" Harry asked, but they ignored him.

"If you're not leading him on then where did he sleep last night?" Ron demanded.

Ginny looked him straight in the eye and said, "I haven't the faintest idea. He's your roommate, not mine." It was the first time she'd ever lied to a family member's face, and she was wretchedly unhappy at how easy it had been.

"Gin," Ron said, moving closer so Harry couldn't hear, "I mean it. He deserves better than that."

She rolled her eyes. "Thirty seconds ago you were yelling so loud I could hear you all the way upstairs."

"That was before I found out that you're hurting him."

"Did he tell you that?" she asked, concern making her voice sharp.

"Not exactly."

Not at all, more like. Ginny sighed. So this was where it was coming from. Ron and Hermione were always so damn protective of Harry. "You just assumed it then. Look, Ron," she said, not unkindly, "you don't understand anything about anything."

"Explain it to me then."

"No."

Ron was startled at her flat refusal, given without any qualifications whatsoever. "Why not?"

"Because I don't discuss Harry with anyone who isn't Harry."

"But—"

"Drop it, Ron." Her tone would brook no refusal. "He's fine. I'm fine. Everything's fine." Her eyes softened, and she stood on tiptoes to give her brother a quick hug. "Thank you, though," she murmured in his ear.

"What for?"

"For being such a good friend to him."

"Whenever you're done whispering about me!" Harry called from his spot on the couch.

"Right," Ginny called back. "We're done. I'll see you two later." She added, so that only Harry could hear, _Think about spending some time with Ron and Hermione during the rest of the holidays. They miss you. I can tell._

__

I'm with them every single day, Harry answered. _I have classes with them, and I eat with them, and I even sleep in the same room as Ron, usually._

Ginny pushed the portrait open as she said, _But are you ever really _with_ them anymore, or are you preoccupied with being my protector?_ _They can tell, Harry. But they think it's because of that thing you were on about over the summer, keeping them safe from Voldemort by avoiding them. _She gave him a small smile. _Just think about it, please? It would make them both happy, and you too. They're worried sick about you. _The portrait swung shut behind her.

She was right, he knew. He had been so taken up with Ginny lately that he had hardly spared any time for his two best friends. But still, he couldn't just let Ron's outburst go. Harry shifted on the sofa so he could look at his friend. "I wish you hadn't done that."

He scowled. "If she's leading you on—"

"She's _not_," Harry said. "We've been over this."

Ron snorted derisively. "What would you call it, then? She tags after you for how many years? And now that you have feelings for her, she suddenly doesn't want any part of it?"

"That's about right," Harry confirmed, getting up and going over to the cupboard. He got out a chessboard and the box that held his and Ron's chess sets. They kept their pieces together because Harry and Hermione were the only Gryffindors who would play Ron anymore, since trying to beat him was a pointless exercise. Harry mainly wanted to have something to do with his hands during this conversation. Ron used his wand to move a table and two chairs near the fire, and he and Harry set up their pieces, still talking. It was a routine they'd done countless times before.

"That sounds like leading on to me," Ron said. "I should owl mum. Maybe she'll send Ginny a howler." Seeing Harry's face, Ron punched his shoulder. "She's being stupid. Don't take it personally, mate."

Harry shook his head. "She's _not_ being stupid, and I'm not taking it personally. She's just having trouble getting her mind around what it means to have a relationship with someone."

"What?"

"She's convinced," Harry said, directing one of his pawns forward two spaces, "that if she shares any of herself with me, or anyone, then there'll be nothing left for her." He shook his head, frustrated. "She thinks that emotions are things that can run out. It's…kind of hard to explain, and it doesn't make any sense."

Ron countered Harry's move. "She _is_ being stupid then. Why would she think that?" His cheeks tinged pink as he continued, "I mean, with Hermione and me, it's…"

"I know." Harry interrupted, not really in the mood to hear any revelations about his two best friends' relationship. He directed his bishop and tried to think of a change of subject. 

Hermione came down the girls' stairs and stopped short at the sight that greeted her. Ron and Harry sat across a chessboard, playing and talking earnestly. It was as though the last few months had never happened, and Harry wasn't distracted and distant anymore, and things were just the way they used to be. She grinned, and started across the room towards them, levitating an armchair over to their game. She paused, though when she heard their topic of conversation. "Are you talking about Ginny?"

Both boys looked up and smiled in welcome as she took a seat. "We are," Ron confirmed. "She's leading Harry on with a lot of tripe about being afraid to share herself. Bollocks, all of it."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Ron. It makes perfect sense that she'd feel that way. It's all she knows, isn't it? Think about what happened to her the last time she opened herself up to someone. Is it any wonder she's scared of letting people close?"

Ron's knight darted forward. He thought for a moment and then had an epiphany, asking in a hushed voice, "Are you talking about You-Know-Who?"

Hermione nodded, her eyes on the chess battle playing out before her. "That diary. Tom Riddle. She poured everything into it, shared everything she had to give, and it turned her into a shell. It let him control her, and people very nearly died, including Harry." She paused while Ron's knight clobbered a pawn. When the noise died down, she continued, "It's not surprising that she kept up a crush on an unattainable person, because it was safe. There was no danger she'd have to give anything up. The moment Harry stopped being unattainable, she got scared."

Harry stared at Hermione. He'd been wracking his brain for months trying to come up with an explanation for Ginny's reluctance to be with him, and Hermione had reasoned it out in less than five minutes. Being friends with the smartest witch of their generation had benefits. "You know, that makes perfect sense. I'll have to work out how to prove her wrong." His mind swung into action, planning how he would go about making her understand that being in love didn't mean losing anything.

"You know, I'm impressed," Hermione said.

"With what?" Harry asked. "The way I'm trouncing Ron?"

Ron snorted and moved his queen, taking Harry's knight. "Pull the other one, Harry."

Hermione shook her head, her wild hair flying out of her ponytail in staticy tendrils. "No," she said gently. "I'm impressed that you care for Ginny enough to give her the time she needs to figure things out for herself."

"What else _can_ I do?" Harry asked, directing his other knight. Too late, he realized that he'd moved it directly in the path of Ron's castle. "It's not like this is just going to go away."

"Maybe you two should talk about this when I'm not here. She's my little sister, you know. Check," Ron said. "That was fast, mate. You're out of practice." He looked up at Harry and sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm not going to pretend I like it. You're putting her in even more danger than she's in already, and if anything ever happened to her, I don't know what it would do to my mum. Still," he licked his lips nervously, and then pressed on, "she's different since her first year. She can be so distant sometimes, and quiet. If it's You-Know-Who's fault, then I suppose you're the one to put it right. I…if you can bring her back to the way she used to be, I'll never say another word about it." Harry didn't reply. They played out a few more moves, and then Ron cleared his throat. "Check again. What're you going to do?"

Harry frowned at the board. "I'm going to lose."

"No! I mean about my sister."

"Oh, right." He thought for a moment, framing his words very carefully. "I'm going to show her through actions that loving someone doesn't mean that you lose yourself."

Hermione said tentatively, "It's going to take a while, Harry. Someone doesn't just change their way of relating to people overnight."

Harry moved his king out of check. "I've got nothing but time."

*****

__

January 9, 1998

Dana sat in one of the hard, high-backed chairs in front of the fire in her common room. She shifted uncomfortably, wondering whom she'd have to bribe to get a cushion. The Slytherins desperately needed a decorator.

Tinamyia and Portia sat nearby, gossiping about her as though she wasn't within earshot. Dana was just about to go out of her head, and gave an exasperated sigh. Portia turned and said, "What's your problem?"

Dana winced inwardly. So it was going to be one of _those_ days. Sometimes her dormmates got in these moods when they were absolutely intolerable. "Nothing," she said through gritted teeth. "I'm just doing some last minute research for Binns's project. Could you two please hold it down a little?"

Tinamyia rolled her eyes. "If you don't like it, you can always go up to our room. It's empty."

"And dark," Dana replied. "I'd rather stay by the fire."

"We're not about to follow orders from a stuck-up mudblood just because you're studying," Portia sneered.

Dana rubbed her temples. The sheer ignorance of these girls was enough to give her a headache. "I'm not saying you have to stop talking about me. Be as rude as you like; I'd expect nothing less. As long as you do it _quietly_."

Portia snapped the book off of Dana's lap. "What's this, then, that's so important?"

"The evolution of old magic," Dana said, cursing the Sorting Hat. "I think my sister and I have some of it, so we're looking through books to find out more." Dana glanced up. Over Portia's shoulder she saw Draco Malfoy, watching her intently and listening to every word.

He held her gaze for a long moment and then, without breaking eye contact, stood and crossed over to them. Portia and Tinamyia simpered; Dana glowered. He reached down and, in one fluid motion, plucked the book out of Portia's limp hands. Dana glared at him. "We were having a private conversation."

"So I heard. About how you think you and Delia both have some old magic," he said in that lazy drawl that so grated on her nerves. "Otherworldly magic is _extremely_ rare. I've never heard of anyone having it. Tell me, Silvermoon, what makes you think that you, a simple mud—" he cut himself off and started again, "a simple muggle raised witch, would ever have any?"

Dana wasn't about to tell him what had happened in Hogsmeade, so she said instead, "For your information, Delia and I made a list of things druids could do but modern wizards can't. Some of these things, not anywhere near all, but some, are abilities we have. And sometimes, when I'm working with plants, I see this silver light—" She cut off abruptly as Draco pulled out his wand. He muttered an incantation under his breath and shot discretely at Portia and Tinamyia. Dana jumped to her feet.

"A simple _obliviate_, Silvermoon. Relax. The fact that you have these powers isn't something you want to go spreading around. Someone might take unfair advantage."

Dana kept her eyes fixed on his wrist. That was what Ginny had done, the day the Gryffindor had almost dueled with Malfoy in the dungeon hallway. "Someone like you?"

Draco's eyes turned calculating. "Is that an invitation?"

"_No!_" Dana was revolted.

"Pity." He gave a faint smile and tucked his wand away. "Where's your sister?"

"In the library, I imagine, where she always is," she said, wondering what he was playing at.

"Don't worry, Silvermoon. Your secret is safe with me." Draco held out her book and she snatched it back. Without another word, he turned on his heel and exited the common room, leaving her standing by the fire, her two dazed roommates at her feet.

*****

Draco stalked through the hallways, weighing options in his mind. If, as he was increasingly beginning to suspect, the one he needed was Ginny Weasley, his cause was going to run into trouble. If Dumbledore hid her away before their minds could link, Draco would have no way of finding her. However, someone with Otherworldly power would be able to find Ginny, no matter where Dumbledore might put her. Like cried out to like after all, and Draco had to be prepared for every eventuality. Recruiting Dana right now would be a lost cause. Delia, however, had potential. Draco had planned on talking to her eventually; this was just a few years earlier than he'd thought. It was a huge risk, tipping his hand before he knew exactly where she stood, but Draco didn't see that he had any other choice. He was going to have to jump in with both feet, something that went completely against his nature. A verse from a poem drilled into his head by a long forgotten tutor floated through his mind. _If you can make one heap of all your winnings / And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss_…well, he was about to risk everything, but it was worth it. And then he was there, in the library, and there was Delia Silvermoon, sitting alone surrounded by piles of books. His face and posture not betraying a hint of his inner tension, Draco walked directly to her.

Delia looked up from her parchment. "Is there something you want?" She didn't look pleased to see him, but Draco saw none of the loathing that smoldered in her sister whenever he was near.

He slid into a chair across from her, drew his wand, and cast silencing charms around the table to discourage eavesdropping. Delia raised her eyebrows, but other than that gesture she betrayed no surprise. Draco cut right to the heart of the matter. Forthrightness was the best way to get through to her. "What is the one thing you want most in the entire world?"

Delia blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"If you could have anything, any one thing, what would you want? No limitations."

She was amused. "You sound like one of those quizzes in _Witch Weekly_. I'm busy; I don't have time for this."

Draco grabbed the quill out of her hand. "I'm not asking because I want to know you better. Everyone has a price, and I want to know yours."

"Why?"

"What would you ask for?" he repeated. "Answer carefully, Delia, because right now I'm laying the entire world at your feet."

She sized him up and then said, "My birth parents. I want to know who they were."

Draco nodded slowly, turning her answer over in his mind. "I can give you that. Not yet, but someday, when it's in my power to do so, I will."

Delia's hands fisted in her lap and she gave him a look that was simultaneously wary, hopeful, and desperate. "What would I have to give you in return?"

"I'm easy to please," he replied. "I only ask for two things. One is that you develop those Otherworldly powers of yours, and convince your sister to do the same." Two Silvermoons were better than one, after all, and Dana _was_ a Slytherin. Someday she would come around.

Delia told him, "I'd been planning on it. What else do you want?"

Gray eyes locked with gray. "Loyalty," Draco said. "If I'm going to do this for you, I demand your absolute loyalty in return."

Delia sat back in her chair and studied him. "Why do you want me to train my abilities?"

He extended his arm across the table. "First we shake on it."

"No, first you tell me why."

"Your _hand_, Silvermoon," he demanded in a tone no Death Eater had yet dreamed of disobeying.

"Why?"

Draco looked over her face; her lips pressed tightly together, her piercing gaze fixed on him. She wouldn't be intimidated. That pleased him, but he wasn't going to tell her a thing until the bargain was sealed. He leaned across the table. "Think very carefully, Delia," he murmured silkily. "Think about what you'd be throwing away by not entering this bargain. Finally knowing your parents. Proving to the world that you're a witch of the blood. No one will ever say they're better than you; they'll look at you as an equal. As their superior. All you have to do is take my hand."

Delia tried to reason through his offer logically, but her mind was a black void. She had the feeling that she was falling headfirst into a remarkable, life-changing event. "You have ten seconds before the offer is rescinded," Draco said, willing her not to call his bluff. Still, she didn't move. "Five seconds, Silvermoon." Time stretched between them, so taut that Draco thought it might snap.

"Two, one." Time was up. Draco withdrew his hand, and Delia lunged across the table and grabbed it. He was offering her parents. No price was too high for that.

"You have a bargain."

He smiled triumphantly. He'd never yet met someone he couldn't outmaneuver. The contractual magic flowed between them. He relished the sensation.

Delia pulled her hand back. "Now tell me why."

Draco checked to make sure his silencing charms were in place. He leaned across the table and asked, "Have you ever heard of the Pendragon prophecy?"

*****

"The Potions exam is going to be brutal," Ria groaned, her back hunched under a satchel full of books. "I can't believe how many formulas he gave us to review, and all the regular homework besides!"

"It's a crime," Ginny agreed, staggering under the weight of her own bookbag.

"You promise Mike will help us?"

"He said he'd be in the library at nine, and it's nine thirty," Ginny confirmed, looking at her watch. "It can't hurt to ask, right?"

"You mean you haven't talked to him yet?"

"Don't they say that you learn by teaching? It'll help him study just as much as it'll help us. He won't say no."

"But you haven't talked to him yet."

Ginny looked sheepish. "I forgot."

Ria sighed. "Never mind, Ginny. It's okay. If we fail Potions and are forced to leave school, we can always sweep hair off the floor at Gwen's spa."

The two girls rounded a corner and Ginny stopped in her tracks. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and she felt a sudden drop in temperature. Ria stopped too. "Do you feel that?" she whispered.

"It feels like I've walked through a ghost," Ginny whispered back. "But I don't see any, unless they're invisible."

Ria shook her head. "It's not a ghost. I've only felt like this one other time, when the horseless carriages rode past the Dementors guarding the school gate at the beginning of second year."

"You remember that far back?" Ginny asked, surprised.

"It's not the kind of thing you forget, is it?" Ria countered.

Ginny adjusted the shoulder strap on her bag. "There can't be a Dementor here, can there? I mean, if there were, I'd be able to hear…."

Ginny didn't need to finish her sentence. Even though she'd never asked, Ria knew exactly what Ginny heard around Dementors. Voldemort. Or, rather, Tom Riddle. Ria looked down the deserted hallway; half expecting the faceless monster to jump out from behind a suit of armor or through one of the dozens of doors that lined the walls. All was quiet, except for the girls' breathing. Finally she broke the silence. "If it was very close you'd know it, Gin. It must be a few hallways over. Near enough to make us cold, but not enough to…you know."

Ginny pulled out her wand. Her eyes darted around, searching for any evidence of the Dementor's presence. "How do you think it got in?" she whispered.

Ria drew her wand as well. "I don't know. We have to find a teacher."

Ginny's blood was like ice in her veins. She licked her lips and looked back around the corner they had just turned. That hall was empty as well. "Yeah," she agreed, "getting a teacher sounds like a very good idea."

Neither girl moved. "After you," Ria said.

"All right."

Ginny stayed rooted to her spot. She was pale, her eyes were wide with trepidation and her breath came shallow and fast. Ria was scared, but not to the same degree as her friend. Of course, if she had to listen to what the Dementors made Ginny hear Ria would probably be out of her mind with panic. Ria thought her friend was holding together very well, and felt a flash of respect for Ginny as she asked, "What if…what if we run into it?"

Ginny adjusted her bag again. "_Expecto Patronum_. You passed this unit with no problem, Ria. You'll be fine." At least, she hoped Ria would be fine, as Ginny wouldn't be surprised if she herself wound up curled on the floor in a ball of fear.

Ria caught Ginny's free hand in her own and squeezed it. Her grasp was clammy, but still the gesture was reassuring. "You'll be fine too. Gin? Are you okay?"

Cold fingers of dread crept up Ginny's spine and laced through her mind, bringing with it a terrible sense of wrongness, of something that was an affront to nature itself. Quietly, as though from far away, she heard _his_ voice laughing with sadistic glee. "_You made it so easy, Ginny. He's going to die, and it's all thanks to you_."

Ginny swayed and her bag slipped to the floor, its contents spilling everywhere. Her voice was nothing more than a hoarse gasp. "Too late. It's coming right for us." She and Ria stared at each other in mute horror, and then Ginny swung into action. She grabbed her friend by the sleeve and pulled her around the corner. Ginny briefly considered making a run for it, but she didn't know how fast Dementors could move. It would be better if she and Ria held their ground.

The girls pressed up against the wall, and Ginny slowly peeked around the corner. Tom's echo was still far away, and she heard voices approaching. She prayed it was a teacher. Or, at the very least, Ron, Harry, and Hermione. They always knew what to do in situations like this. Now the other voices were near enough that Ginny could recognize one of them; it was Dumbledore, and he sounded furious. She almost sank to her knees in relief, and sent up silent thanks to Mórrígan.

At the end of the hall, Dumbledore stormed into view, followed by Minister Fudge, who was very red in the face. Ginny frowned; she tried to ignore the cold, the prickling notes of decay that disrupted the fluidity of the symphony in her power. She tried to force Tom's voice back; she had to focus. Something was very wrong. Something besides the Dementor. She stepped back around the corner to get a closer look. "Are you mad?" Ria hissed, grabbing at Ginny's robes but missing.

At the other end of the long corridor, Fudge blustered, "Surely this was an isolated incident. Madame Rosmerta's injuries are unfortunate, yes, but why would You-Know-Who attack so close to the school? Perhaps this was a copycat crime."

"The Dark Marks were real," Dumbledore said. "The Death Eaters were real. As to why they attacked so close to the school…" Ginny strained her ears, her heart in her throat. Was Dumbledore going to tell Fudge about the Pendragon? The Headmaster continued, "It was a poorly calculated maneuver." Ginny let out a breath. Apparently, Dumbledore didn't trust the Minister enough to inform him of the prophecy.

Tom grew louder, his words ricocheting around her mind. "_Ginny, you made it so easy. After all these years, Lord Voldemort will finally kill the great Harry Potter. And it wouldn't have been possible without you. Don't you feel proud, Ginny? Don't you?_" She bit her lip and clutched her wand, tried to think of something happy—Ria, Quidditch, Bill—they all slipped away like grains of sand. There was only Tom, filling her head with his nightmarish laughter. She couldn't see, couldn't think.

Dumbledore heard Ria cry out as Ginny collapsed. He looked down the corridor, saw the two students, and turned to Fudge, his voice cold. "You will never bring one of those filthy creatures into my school again, Minister. Do I make myself clear?"

Fudge spluttered. "I have a right to personal protection. I'm a public figure, and these are dangerous times."

"Nonetheless, it is feeding off of my students. There is nothing you need fear in this castle, and Dementors are not welcome. Take it and go, or I will drive it out."

Fudge made an impatient motion over his shoulder, and the Dementor glided into view. Ginny was already unconscious, and Ria stood over her, rooted to the spot. She shivered with cold and fear. Fudge stormed off, and the monster followed.

Dumbledore immediately raced down the hallway towards the two Gryffindors. He pulled a bar of Honeydukes chocolate out of his pocket and handed a few squares to Ria, taking the rest for himself. The moment she swallowed the chocolate, Ria felt warm right down to her fingertips. Before she could thank the Headmaster, though, Ginny stirred. Ria dropped to her knees as her friend opened her eyes and tried to sit up. 'Gin, stay still a second."

Ginny's eyes opened wide. "Where's Dumbledore?"

"He's right here," Ria soothed. "Just relax. You need some chocolate."

Dumbledore knelt beside Ginny as well. "I'm afraid I don't have any more. I wasn't expecting the Minister to bring one of those things. She'll need to go to the hospital wing." The Dementor must have affected Ginny strongly; for once she wasn't looking at him with her patented mix of defiance and fear. She had asked for him by name.

"Will she be all right?" Ria asked, her forehead creased with concern.

"She'll make a full recovery," Dumbledore reassured. "In fact, she'll probably be back in your common room later this evening. Why don't you go back to Gryffindor, Miss Johnson, and wait for her there?"

Ria obviously didn't want to leave her friend. Ginny rested her hand on Ria's arm. "I'm okay, really. I'll see you later."

Ria nodded reluctantly. "If you're not back in our dorm by midnight, I'm sounding the alarm." She gathered up her things and, with one last backward look at Ginny, left for Gryffindor tower.

The moment she was out of earshot, Dumbledore asked, "Why didn't you stay hidden when you sensed the Dementor?"

Ginny wracked her brain, trying to remember. She had sensed something that wasn't right, and stepped out to get a clearer look… "It was Minister Fudge," she said, still trembling from the monster's after effects.

"What about the Minister?"

Ginny hesitated, unsure as to whether or not the Headmaster would believe what she saw. "He's under the Imperius Curse."

Dumbledore visibly paled, which frightened Ginny more than any other reaction could have done. "Are you positive?"

She nodded. "I saw it. He was ordered to bring the Dementor here. But why, I don't know. It didn't attack anyone did it? Just followed him around?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "You and Miss Johnson were the only students who got close enough to feel its effects." He held out his hand and helped Ginny to her feet. "Come with me."

"We're not going to the hospital wing, are we?"

"No," Dumbledore replied, "we're going to my office. You and I need to have a talk."

*****

Draco lounged on his bed, reading his Transfiguration text. He looked up from his studies when he heard the door creak open. Blaise eased in and shut the door behind him. "Where are Crabbe and Goyle?"

Draco flipped his book closed. "I haven't the faintest idea. Not here, at any rate, and thank the gods for it. I can't ever concentrate with them grunting and stumbling all over the place."

Blaise shrugged and tossed a parcel wrapped in brown paper to Draco. He caught it and sat up. "What's this?"

"No idea. It came for you by special delivery owl."

"Just now?"

Blaise nodded and sat on his bed. "Any idea who it's from?"

"The handwriting looks like Lucius's." Draco detached the envelope from the package and slit it open. Blaise watched the emotions play across his friend's face: interest, annoyance, and then resignation.

Draco tossed the letter down. "This might put a wrench in things. But then," he said thoughtfully," it might not. I just have to think for a minute."

"What's going on?"

Draco picked up the sheet of thick white stationary and read through it once more, committing the details to memory. Then he picked his wand up from the night table and said, "_Incendio_." The letter flared red, and then its ashes drifted to the floor like black snow. Draco looked up at Blaise. "It seems that the Dark Lord has been thinking over my advice, and is considering the benefits of gaining power through politics and propaganda rather than through terrorizing people."

Blaise frowned. "But I thought that's what you wanted. If we're not running around doing his bidding every night, we'll have a chance to fully develop our powers and our faction will gain strength."

"That _is_ what I want," Draco confirmed, amused that Blaise had parroted back his exact words from Christmas. "But the Dark Lord has also decided that he doesn't want to wait for the Pendragon. He's going to try for her again."

"What?" Blaise exclaimed. "But we're not ready! None of us are anywhere _near_…if he found her, would you be able to keep her?"

"Not a chance. He'd have her from me in a minute. There's nothing I could do now to stand up to him; the only wizard who's a match for Voldemort is Dumbledore, and somehow I don't think he'll be willing to help us. We have to keep the Dark Lord from finding her until I'm in a position to fight him off."

Blaise eyed the pile of ash on the floor. "What's he going to do? The attack on Hogsmeade was a total failure."

"I don't know what he's planning. All Lucius says is that it's an attack Dumbledore won't be able to fight off without the Pendragon. I can't think of anything, though, that Dumbledore wouldn't be able to handle on his own."

"What are we going to do?"

"His instructions to me were clear. He wants me to keep an eye out three nights from now, and report back with her identity.' Draco sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. "Does he even realize how precipitous he's being? He's assuming Dumbledore knows who the Pendragon is, and that he'd ever risk her in a conflict before her powers are ready. An attack on the school has to be the most witless thing—"

"What's in the package?" Blaise interrupted.

Draco looked at the brown paper parcel that sat in his lap. Methodically, he undid the paper; Draco wasn't the sort who tore into gifts. Inside the package was a cloak of silvery gray, fluid material. His eyes widened. "An invisibility cloak!"

"Wow!" Blaise exclaimed enviously. "I don't suppose you'd let me have a go with it?"

"Not a chance," he answered, letting the material flow between his fingers. It was wonderful. The Dark Lord could be generous indeed, when it suited him. Draco had always been jealous of Potter's invisibility cloak, and was very pleased to finally have one of his own.

"Why'd he give you one of those?"

"I imagine it's so I can watch the attack without being observed. I'll be able to see the Pendragon and then report her identity back to him."

"Will you?"

"Of course not," Draco snapped. "I'll have to say that I couldn't pick her out in the fray, or that Dumbledore kept her safely locked up."

Blaise frowned. "Do you have any idea who she is? If we knew and the Dark Lord didn't, that could be a serious tactical advantage."

Blaise was right, Draco knew. It was nothing that he hadn't thought himself, after all. "I have an idea who it is."

"That's wonderful!"

"No, it's really not. Let's think about this logically. First, we have Screwtape. She's thicker than…some very thick thing. If she were the most powerful mage of modern times, she'd earn better marks. Next, we have Avery. It's not her."

"How do you know?"

"Her blood is red."

Blaise blinked. "When did you see her blood?"

Draco gave a nonchalant shrug. "A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell, my friend. Avery is loyal to me; she wasn't hard to convince."

"But—"

"I had to know," Draco said sharply, "and blood was the best way to tell."

Blaise looked slightly ill, but didn't question Draco further on that score. There were some things he was better off not knowing, some details he'd rather not be privy to. "That leaves Ginny Weasley."

Draco nodded grimly. "It makes sense. For one thing, Weasley's the only girl in this school who's anywhere near as smart as I am. I don't mean Granger book smart. For another, according to Shannon, she's been withdrawn lately, always seeming preoccupied with something. And Shannon also tells me that Miss Weasley has been spending a lot of time alone with Potter, who's the Pendragon's other protector."

"She could just be going off with Potter to snog," Blaise offered hopefully.

Draco shook his head. "She's snogging some Ravenclaw. I saw them at it in a hallway last week. If she's going off with Potter, it's not because she's snogging him. Gryffindors are disgustingly constant that way. Unfaithfulness goes against their priggish code of honor."

"If it's Weasley we'll never get within ten miles of her," Blaise predicted. "Dumbledore will see to that. The second he thinks you're getting close, he'll put her underground somewhere and we'll never find her."

"That problem has been taken care of." Draco quickly sketched in the details of his bargain with Delia Silvermoon. Blaise was suitably impressed, but would not be dissuaded from the matter at hand.

"What are you going to do?"

Draco was silent for a moment, running his palm over the smooth surface of his new cloak. "I'm going to keep a careful eye on Weasley in three nights' time, and then I'm going to tell the Dark Lord that I didn't see a thing. Two humiliations at Dumbledore's hands will be enough; he won't try for a third."

*****

Ria bounded into the sixth years' dorm. Gwen sat on the stool in front of the mirror and Shannon stood behind her, practicing the charms in the hair book Ginny had gotten for Christmas. "What are you doing back so early?" Gwen asked. "I thought you and Ginny were going to meet Mike Fletcher."

Shannon got one good look at Ria's face and dropped her wand, crossing the room. "What's wrong?" She put her arm around her friend and guided her over to her bed. "What's happened?"

Gwen and Shannon took seats on either side of their friend, concern evident on their faces. Ria told them, "We ran into a Dementor."

Gwen's eyes widened. "_Where's Ginny_?"

"She's fine. Don't look like that, you two. She's okay, but the Dementor made her faint so Dumbledore took her to the hospital wing for some chocolate."

Shannon reached over to the nightstand and rummaged through the drawer, coming up with a few sweets. "You should have a bit too."

"Dumbledore already gave me some."

"Have some more then." Shannon wasn't in a frame of mind to argue. A Dementor in the school! She'd never heard of anything so insane, and resolved to write her parents right away and let them know that two of her closest friends had been put into danger. That thought made her realize; Draco would probably want to know that Ginny was in the hospital wing. He'd asked her to keep an eye on her roommate, and Shannon thought it was a small price to pay in exchange for semi-regular published columns in the _Daily Prophet_. He'd explained why, of course, and she found the entire idea ludicrous, to say the least. Ginny, the Pendragon? But if it meant she could keep writing, Shannon was more than happy to keep an eye on her friend. _Someone_ needed to, that much was obvious, if Ginny was going to be running into monsters and who knows what else.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Gwen asked. "You look awful."

Ria gave a shaky laugh. "Not as awful as Ginny did. But she'll be here soon; Dumbledore promised she'd be back by the end of the night."

"What did it do?" Shannon asked.

"It was a Dementor, Shannon. It brought us flowers." Shannon frowned and Ria amended, "It made us relive our worst memories. Ginny's worst memories are a sight worse than most people's, you know?"

"Did you shoot a Patronus at it? Did it come at you?"

Ria made a face at the questions and popped another sweet in her mouth. "No, and no. It was all the way down at the end of the hall; Minister Fudge brought it as a bodyguard. When he left, it left."

Gwen shuddered. "You're lucky Professor Dumbledore was there."

"Yeah," Ria agreed. "He gave me chocolate and then told me to come back up here while he took Ginny to the hospital wing."

Shannon gave Ria a quick hug. "I'm glad you're okay." She picked her wand up from the floor and started for the door.

"Where are you going, then?" Gwen asked. "You have someplace more important to be than with your friend who's just been attacked by a monster?"

"I wasn't attacked," Ria corrected. "Just…affected a bit."

"There you go," Shannon said. "She wasn't attacked, and she and Ginny are fine. I'm going up to the Owlery to send a letter to my parents, telling them about this. My mum is on the board of governors, you know. They'll set Fudge straight on those things not being allowed in the school." The Owlery was _one_ of her destinations, anyway. But first, she'd go to the dungeons and fill Draco in on Ginny's misadventure.

When Shannon was gone, Gwen and Ria looked at each other in silence. "Don't mind her," Gwen offered. "She likes to feel useful. Whenever she puts her mind to a cause, she has to always be _doing_ something."

"I know," Ria said. "I've lived with her just as long as you have."

Gwen flushed. "Right. Sorry. I don't think there's anything in the etiquette books on what to talk about with your friend who's just had a near miss with a Dementor."

Ria flopped onto her back. "It wasn't a near miss. It wasn't even near, since Dumbledore was there the whole time." She gave Gwen a small smile then. "But thanks for worrying."

"Anytime." Gwen eyed the lone remaining chocolate. "Are you going to eat that?"

"Not if you want it."

Gwen unwrapped the sweet and popped it in her mouth, closing her eyes in pleasure. "Shannon gets them imported from Germany, you know. You can't buy anything this good in Hogsmeade. Ria, are you sure you're okay?"

Ria sat up. "Maybe we should go to the hospital wing and make sure she's all right. I don't want her there by herself. She was in a pretty bad way."

"But Dumbledore sent you back here. He's with her, I'm sure. He won't like you leaving the tower if he's told you to stay." Gwen cast her eyes around the room for something to occupy her edgy friend. The book of hair charms was right out. "Has Ginny taught you to play Monopoly yet?"

"What?"

"The game Mike gave her for Christmas. We played last week when you were in detention."

Gwen fished the box out from under Ginny's bed and passed it to Ria, whose eyes lit up. "She doesn't need to teach me, Gwen. It's a Muggle game. Did you like it?"

"Too much counting for my taste," Gwen said, wrinkling her nose. "But Shannon took care of my numbers, and when I didn't have to worry about percents and things it was fun. Do you want to play?"

Ria didn't, really. But Gwen was trying her best to distract her from worrying about Ginny, and maybe it would help. "Will I have to do your counting for you?"

"If you would. But I'll roll the dice myself."

Ria couldn't help but laugh at that. "I get to be the thimble."

*****

Ginny sipped her hot chocolate. She didn't want it, really. Sweet drinks weren't to her taste. She was still cold from the Dementor, however, so Dumbledore had insisted. The chocolate _did_ help quite a bit; she felt comfortable warmth spreading through her veins all the way to her toes. "What are you going to do about Minister Fudge?"

Dumbledore spread his hands. "What _can_ I do?"

She frowned. "You can go to the Ministry and do a _Finite Incantatum_. You can find out who did this to him. I bet it happened at the Malfoys' Christmas party. Shannon Cannon was there; she told me who was on the guest list. It was all Ministry officials and Death Eaters."

"There's nothing I can do," the Headmaster replied. "If I went to the Ministry right now, there's no way I'd be allowed in to see him."

"What about waiting outside his house?" Ginny asked desperately. "Or at a restaurant? Or in Diagon Alley? There has to be a way to fix him."

"There isn't," Dumbledore said firmly. "I fell out of favor three years ago; I'm no longer welcome in political circles, and I can't get an audience with the Minister just because I ask for one." He regarded her silently for a moment, and then said, "If they've gotten to the Minister of Magic, there's no telling what's next. Do you realize that, Ginny?"

She nodded, mute. Dumbledore continued, "I didn't want to bring this up again. I had planned on waiting for you to come to me, giving you time to get used to the idea. It seemed like the least I could do. That's not an option anymore, though. I need to talk to you about going into auror training."

Ginny drained the rest of her chocolate and set the cup on his desk. "No."

He folded his hands and gazed at her over his glasses. She met his eyes without looking away. "No what?"

"No, I won't go into auror training next year. For one thing, becoming a part time student would mean I couldn't be Head Girl."

"No, you couldn't," Dumbledore confirmed, "but one never knows who will be Head Girl and Boy ahead of time."

Ginny snorted. "Who else were you going to choose then?"

He inclined his head. "It would've been you, in all likelihood. But there are more important things at stake than whether or not you get to wear a badge on your robes next year."

"That's true," she acknowledged. "Lots of things are more important than that. Like my freedom to choose my life."

"You don't have that freedom anymore," Dumbledore said gently. He was on thin ice. "You haven't ever had it, really. I'm not the one who took it away; destiny did. Blame me if you must, but don't condemn the wizarding world to fight Voldemort without your protection because you're angry with your circumstances."

She bristled. "That's not how it is. You're making me sound childish."

"Aren't you?"

Ginny clenched her hands together and tried to get a grip on her temper. Blowing up the Headmaster's office wouldn't help him see things her way. "No, I'm not. I want to be the one who controls my life. You're being unreasonable."

"I'm trying to help you do your job," he corrected. "Listen carefully, Ginny, because this is very important. Lives, and perhaps even our entire civilization, depend on your success. You need to master certain skills and be able to protect yourself. Auror training and field work are the only ways you're going to effectively prepare for what's coming."

"I don't want to," she insisted, wishing there was some other way she could say it. She sounded like a petulant child, even to her own ears. She didn't know the words, though, that would express to the Headmaster the deep panic that gripped her at the thought of relinquishing control of her life.

"It's rather obvious that you don't want to," Dumbledore said. "But you don't want to be the Pendragon either. There's nothing I can do about that. You _are_ the Pendragon, and I'm going to make sure that you have every advantage in the coming battle, whether you like it or not." She looked up sharply, and he said, "I'm not going to insult your intelligence by pretending that you can refuse the training I've arranged. You can't. The arrangements have been made. I'd feel better, though, knowing that you were going into it voluntarily."

"This isn't fair."

"Life isn't fair."

"No!" she exclaimed. "You're not going to sit here spouting cheap platitudes at me. I'm learning the wandless magic, and I'm practicing with my link with Harry. There's nothing else you can ask from me. I'm not _required_ to do anything just because you want me to."

Dumbledore looked disappointed. Despite her anger, Ginny felt her heart drop at his expression; no student, no Gryffindor especially, ever wanted to be the cause of that look. "Are you so proud, then?" he asked. "Are you so self centered that you can't see beyond your own wants to the greater good? Everyone is depending on you, Ginny. The Minister of Magic is under their control. You're the only one who can fix this, but first you have to learn how."

She was silent, simmering with impotent fury. She didn't know what she could say that would make him understand. "You're the most powerful wizard of our times. Voldemort is afraid of you. You can handle the fight on your own; you don't need me."

"I can't handle it on my own."

Ginny's eyes widened, startled. She sensed that this was not a confession he made lightly or, indeed, would have made to anyone but her. "What do you mean you can't handle it? You're Albus Dumbledore. You…you have your own chocolate frog card! You defeated Grindelwald."

"I'm losing ground," he said, the words drilling into her head. "The attack on Hogsmeade is proof of that." He hesitated, but decided that she needed to hear the full story. He didn't want her to fight him; he wanted her partnership in the coming struggle. "I think Voldemort is getting help from somewhere."

"What kind of help?"

"I don't know. His reach has increased of late. The Death Eaters never should've been able to come so close to the school. Voldemort has found a power source stronger than almost anything I have."

"Almost anything? Then fight him with the thing you have that's strong enough to defeat him."

"That's you."

Ginny flinched inwardly. She should've seen that one coming. "Where is his power coming from? Don't you have any idea at all?"

"I have a vague idea. You'll probably be better able to tell than I." The Headmaster walked over to a black cabinet against the wall and pulled out a stone basin covered with runes. Its contents shone with a silvery light; Ginny leaned closer and saw the bowl's swirling contents. It looked like a cloud. "Do you know what a Pensieve is?" She nodded, and he continued, "This is my Pensieve. There's something I'm going to show you that's going to be hard to see, but I have to know if there's anything you can tell me. Are you willing to help?"

The swirling fog made her dizzy. Ginny swallowed hard and nodded. Instinctively, she bent down until her nose hovered just above the surface of the Pensieve, then she fell in. From far above, she saw the ground hurtling closer. She threw up her hands and tried to cry out, but couldn't make any noise. The grass moved toward her with astonishing speed; and then with a gentle bump she landed. Dumbledore stood before her, and held out his hand to help her stand. Once on her feet, Ginny took in her surroundings. They stood beside a hill, in a sparsely wooded area. It was late afternoon, and the sun sat low in the sky. Dried leaves crunched under her feet. Ginny's eyes flew to Dumbledore's; she knew exactly where they were. This was where they'd found Moody's body.

"Take me back," she said, her voice low and urgent. She did _not_ want to be here, did not want to see what the Headmaster was going to show her.

He shook his head. "I need you to look, and tell me what you think is going on. You've been to the Otherworld; you've spoken face to face with the Mórrígan. Maybe you can tell me something that I can't find in books or scrolls."

Ginny took a deep breath. She didn't want to face what she knew was on the other side of that hill. Dumbledore kept his eyes on her, though, and the intensity of his gaze pushed her forward. Her steps crushed the dry fall leaves into the ground. The breeze whipped her robes, and she hugged herself to ward off the chill. From the top of the rise, she saw a group of people standing around a yew tree. There were seven: six in torn black robes, one tall, with silvery hair and robes of rich blue. It was what Dumbledore had been wearing when he left with the aurors. Snatches of their conversation floated to her ears on the breeze. "Those monsters—" "How could they?" "What does this mean?" And then the Headmaster's voice, low and sad, "I don't know." Ginny's chest felt tight; it was hard to breathe. How could Dumbledore not know? How could he not be able to fix it?

She started down the hill, gravity making her go rather faster than she'd have liked. Her heart pounded in her ears; even though she was in a memory, it was all too real. She could smell death; it was a sick, sweet-sour scent that stung the insides of her nostrils and made her eyes water. Mundungus wept for his friend, and Sirius quietly led him away. Their absence left a gap in the circle of aurors, and Ginny made out the silhouette of a swinging form. As she got closer, she heard Lupin say, his voice harsh with grief and the sense of failure, "Let's cut him down."

Her stomach churning, Ginny forced herself to look. And then she screamed. The adults moved around, not seeing or hearing her, not coming to her aid, and she stood there, the shrieks ripping from her throat, rough and primal. Moody hung from the tree; the purple rope burns around his neck a sharp contrast to the terrible pale of his skin. Voldemort had gauged runes in his cheeks; the dark, angry looking symbols were stark against the ghastly white of his scarred face. He had almost no blood left in him; it seemed that all of it had spilled upon the ground. The dark wizards had used it to paint a circle around the tree and the body in it, and the trunk of the tree was covered with runes, also painted in the deep red-brown of Moody's life. They had torn his stomach open; his entrails hung to the ground in long purple strings; the grass beneath his dangling feet was drenched with blood and bile. Ginny dropped to her knees; her throat closed up and she gagged, cursing herself for weakness. None of the aurors had fallen at the sight; she would force herself to be as strong as they were.

A hand dropped to her shoulder and squeezed. Ginny grasped it, closing her fingers around the old, papery skin, grateful for the warmth and the connection with life. "Why?" she croaked.

"I don't know," Dumbledore replied. "The runes aren't ones I've ever seen. They can't be found, not even in the most ancient scrolls."

Ginny squeezed her eyes shut, but Moody was there behind her eyelids, swinging from the branch of a yew, the tree of death. She opened her eyes with a gasp and focused on the grass; looked intently at the twisted blades, dull brown and wilted with the cold weather. Grass was grass no matter where she was; at the Burrow or in Dumbledore's memory. It was familiar, and soothing. Plants always soothed her. The sameness of each blade had a hypnotic effect; eventually Ginny's breathing slowed and she no longer felt light-headed. Dumbledore waited until she had calmed, and then said, "Look again."

Her eyes fixed on the ground, she shook her head. "I can't," she choked. "Please take me back."

"I'm sorry, Ginny." He truly sounded it. "But I have to ask you to look again. Look at what else is hanging on the tree."

"Take me back!" she cried.

"Look again." His voice was patient and sad.

Slowly, Ginny raised her eyes to the tree. While she had pondered the symmetry of grass, Lupin and two of the female aurors had cut Moody down from the tree. Now he was stretched out on the ground. "What—"

"On the branch," Dumbledore directed.

A frayed length of rope dangled from the thick bough. Further down, as the branch grew slender, three birds hung by their necks. Like Moody, they had been brutally eviscerated. Ginny set her teeth, steeled her resolve, and stood. Shrugging Dumbledore's hand off her shoulder, she moved closer. With each step, the putrid stench of decay and blood grew stronger, until Ginny thought they might even have become part of herself, that she would never be able to wash it off. The grass inside the circle of blood was dead, blackened. It had been scorched. Ginny slipped on the slick red pool, but maintained her footing and took a closer look at the animals. They were crows. Three crows, sacrificed alongside Moody. With a strangled gasp, she spun around and saw Dumbledore looking at her, his expression unreadable. The only words she could manage were, "Take me back."

He reached out his hand, but instead of holding it she closed her fingers around his wrist. A whoosh, and then they were back in his office. He took a seat and motioned for her to do the same. Ginny remained standing. He asked, "Can you tell me anything about what you just saw?"

Her expression hardened. "I don't know what you were trying to prove just now, with that little display. Were you trying to show me that Dark Wizards are bad people? I already knew."

"Ginny—"

"Why did you have to show me that?" she asked, anguish evident in her eyes, although her voice was controlled.

"I didn't do it to provoke a reaction," Dumbledore said, rising and crossing the room to stand in front of her. "Please believe that I would never do that to you. But I think this is a clue as to where Voldemort is getting his extra powers, and I need to know if there's anything you can tell me about what you just saw. Anything I might have missed."

As he had done in the Pensieve, Dumbledore reached out to put a comforting hand on her shoulder. Ginny jerked away. "Don't touch me. Just…don't. There's nothing I can tell you. I've been to the Otherworld, but I don't know anything about it. Nobody does."

Dumbledore nodded. "The next time you're there, perhaps you should inform Mórrígan of what you saw today. Maybe she could tell us something." Ginny nodded, and Dumbledore said, "Now that you've seen the inhumanity these people are capable of, why wouldn't you want to train your powers to fight them?"

"That's not the point." She backed away, heading for the door. She had to get out of this room.

"It _is_ the point," Dumbledore said. "I need you to think about what they did to Alastor Moody."

Ginny gave a bitter laugh. "I doubt I'll be able to think of anything else. Goodbye, Professor." Then she was gone.

*****

A/N Part 2: We're in the homestretch, folks. One chapter and an epilogue left, and then we start with the second story in the Pendragon arc. Why did Moody die in such a horrible way? What's Ginny going to do about the auror training? What will Mórrígan tell Ginny about the things she saw in Dumbledore's Pensieve? What kind of attack is Voldemort planning, that Dumbledore won't be able to fight it off without the Pendragon? Join the HP Pendragon yahoo group and let the speculation begin!

And now, the list of honor:

Danielle; Bertie; Amanda R.; Rach; Emma; T; Ginny; Becky; Amanda T.; Pat; Sheryl; Andy; Silvermane [thanks for all your reviews!]; DRI [yes, _that_ DRI. She's a zealous beta]; aylapascal; leconinium [thank you so much for the detailed feedback. If you'd like to email me at irina@schnoogle.com, I'd love to discuss it with you in-depth]; Cathy; The Mirror of Erised; Ardence; RachelHPFan; Poetic72182 [I'm still not over the fact that you compared me to Stephen King. I mean, _wow_], Joyce83 [your feedback was extremely helpful in planning out this chapter. It would've been quite different without your review. Thanks very much, and I'm glad you're enjoying the story!]; jendry [I'm so glad you like Draco. He's my favorite to write]; Zamnaii; Silvestria [According to www.babyzone.com, Blaise is a boy's name. _The Once and Future King_ is a great book, one of my favorites. I highly recommend it]; Hoshiko; star beneath the stairs; me; Arianna Maeve; Maxcat2564; Elizabeth; Tiffany; Taylor; Petrie [I can't wait to see how your psychic powers fare on this chapter!]; Suzanne; Abbey; and Kara.

Thanks so much for the feedback, everyone! You all are my heroes.

If you want to join a group of cool, friendly, fun people who inspire me on a regular basis, the HP Pendragon mailing list is the place for you. You can find it at groups.yahoo.com/group/HPPendrgaon. It's the first place I announce updates, and the list gets to read new chapters several days before they go live anywhere else. I'd love to see you there.

Drop me a line anytime at irina@schnoogle.com. I love hearing from you, and I always write back.

The chapter has now ended.


	11. The Life Debt

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Title: The Rebirth - Chapter 10 "The Life Debt" (10/11)  
**Author name:** Irina   
**Author email:** irina@schnoogle.com

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Category: drama, romance  
**Keywords: **Ginny, destiny, angst, romance, drama  
**Spoilers: **All four books  
**Rating:** R

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Summary: So why _did_ Voldemort try to kill Harry? An ancient power has reawakened and the answers to all the mysteries lie with Ginny Weasley.

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Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

A/N: Thanks to Danette and DRI for keeping me motivated and being fantastic betas. Danette co-wrote the Dana/Seamus scene and the Dana/Delia scene, so an extra round of applause to her. Thanks to my muses on the HP Pendragon mailing list for being so much fun. If you want to join them, point your browser to groups.yahoo.com/group/hppendragon. I'd love to see you there. Remember, feedback makes me a better writer, which means a better story for you to read. Don't forget to review!

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Chapter 10

The Life Debt

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January 9, 1998

Shannon held her wand up in front of her face. "_Coadunatio_ Draco Malfoy." The wand glowed blue, trembled slightly, and then returned to normal. It was the spell Draco had taught her to use when she wanted to talk to him. It caused his wand to vibrate as well, informing him that she had news and would be waiting in their designated meeting spot, an unused classroom in a corridor off the entrance hall. By the light of her wand, Shannon glanced at the chairs that faced the long-unused blackboard, but then looked at the thick patina of dust and grime that covered every surface and elected to stand. The black trousers she wore belonged to Gwen, who would have a heart attack if Shannon returned them in anything less than pristine condition.

The door creaked open and Draco eased into the room. Shannon tilted her head curiously; she had never seen him look anything less than one hundred percent neatly put together. This evening, although he was still in his school clothes, his unclasped robes billowed about his body. He had discarded his gray sweater, and his green and silver striped tie hung, unknotted, around his neck. Shannon's heart beat hard against the inside of her ribs; he was even more handsome when disheveled than he was when impeccably dressed. Through a supreme effort, she pulled herself together and observed, "You look like you've been through the wringer. Who was she?"

Draco shot her a dirty look. "_Lumos_." The glow from his wand enhanced the light from hers, but the room was still quite dark. "I was reviewing for a very important Transfiguration exam, if you must know. This had better be good."

"It's about Ginny," Shannon told him, silently thanking the gods for giving this beautiful person such a terrible superiority complex. It seemed only fair; otherwise the girls of Hogwarts wouldn't stand a chance. She herself wouldn't have had anything to do with him if he hadn't offered her the golden opportunity to work for the downfall of Voldemort while still preserving the rights and privileges of the pureblooded class.

"I figured that it's about Ginny," he said, his tone scathing and impatient. He was _not_ pleased at being called away from his books; it would take him another half-hour at least to put himself back in the proper frame of mind for studying. "All right, what burning news did you call me up here to report? Did she have a fight with her brother? Get top marks on a DADA assignment? Agree to be the test subject for another of Winters's stupid beauty charms?"

Shannon rolled her eyes. "Those things happen all the time."

"I _know_. So unless you have some actual, _pertinent_ information for me, I'm going back to Slytherin."

"Dumbledore took Ginny to the hospital wing."

Draco's eyes widened in interest and he opened his mouth to speak, but a sneeze came out instead. Shannon giggled. She'd never imagined Malfoy sneezing. She'd always figured he had house elves to do it for him. He cast a baleful look around the dusty room and said, "First order of business tomorrow is finding a new place to meet. The amount of dust in here is absolutely unreal."

"Are you allergic?" she couldn't resist asking.

He stopped short. "I…yes, I am. Back to the matter at hand—"

"There's a potion you can take, you know. To combat allergies."

"I know, Shannon. I took some last season." His irritated look only grew darker when he sneezed again, twice in quick succession.

"Maybe you should take some more. I think it's worn off."

"Your," _sneeze_, "concern is duly noted. Now," he trained his blue-gray eyes on Shannon, "why is Ginny in the hospital wing? Is she sick?"

"No, she's going to be fine." Shannon told Draco all about Ginny and Ria's run in with the Dementor, and how Dumbledore had sent Ria back to Gryffindor and whisked Ginny off to see Madame Pomfrey. Draco would have bet every Galleon in his father's Gringotts vault that the Headmaster _hadn't_ taken her to the hospital wing. He turned Fudge's behavior over in his mind. Draco had been present when the Dark Lord had put the Minister under the Imperius Curse at Christmas. If Fudge had brought a Dementor to the school, it was because Voldemort had ordered him to do so. But why would the Dark Lord have wanted…_oh_. Well, that had been a useful epiphany. He'd have to speak with Blaise and Alicia as soon as possible. After he got some of that allergy potion. While he was in the hospital wing, he'd check to see if Ginny was there.

Shannon stood silently, allowing him to think. Draco briefly considered filling her in, but thought better of it. He still wasn't completely sure of her loyalties. Someday she'd be in his inner circle; she had the magical potential for it, as well as the devotion to his cause. But not yet, not until he'd thoroughly tangled her in his web. "Thank you," he told her.

Shannon's lips quirked up in obvious pleasure. "Did you just thank me?"

"Your information was helpful. Good manners dictate that I express my appreciation." _Sneeze_.

She had never met another seventeen-year-old boy who spoke that way, like an adult. Still, she said, "I'm sorry, but the snide condescension isn't believable when you're having an allergy attack. I'm afraid you'll just have to be genuine for a few minutes."

"I'll keep that in mind for next time. Thanks for the tip." He smiled at her, a real smile, and she almost melted. Almost, but not quite. Remembering just in time that it was _Malfoy_ looking at her like that, she said, "I didn't do it for you. I'm not doing anything for you. I'm in this to save the wizarding people."

"In that case, the wizarding people thank you." He cracked the door open and looked out into the hall. "We should leave separately. Why don't you go now, and I'll wait a few minutes."

"Why?"

__

Sneeze. "You wouldn't want any Gryffindors seeing us together. Your stock would plummet."

He had a point. Shannon extinguished her wand and started for the door. Just before leaving, she turned to him and said, "You might want to tidy yourself up a bit. You're a mess."

Draco looked down at his clothes, their unkempt state just fine for lounging on his bed reading Transfiguration but not the thing for wandering around school hallways. He had an image to maintain, after all. He nodded to Shannon and said, "Remember, we need a new meeting place. A room without dust." 

"I'll see what I can do." Shannon tossed him a cheeky grin as she left. She had no intention of finding a new meeting place. It had been so funny to see him sneezing his head off. It made him seem nearly…human.

Draco waited a while, working out what he was going to tell Blaise and Alicia about the Dark Lord's attack plan, and neatening his appearance, knotting his tie and fastening the clasps on his robes. After enough time had elapsed for Shannon to reach her dorm twice over, he left the classroom and shut the door firmly behind him.

*****

Harry exited the greenhouse, holding the door open for Neville. The cold snap of winter air after the warmth in the glass building shocked his skin. "Thanks for the extra help," he told his roommate.

"Anytime," Neville said cheerfully. "You shouldn't have any trouble on the exam, if you reread the chapters on flying ferns and divining weed."

Harry privately thought that the Herbology exam would be quite a bit more difficult than Neville seemed to think, but was grateful to his friend for tutoring him. As they neared the castle doors, Harry saw one of them creak open and a petite, red-haired figure slipped out. He knew right away that it was Ginny and he could tell by her posture and the slow, deliberate way she walked that something was wrong.

"Who's that?" Neville asked. "Doesn't she know that the Headmaster said nobody is allowed outside after dark unless they're doing schoolwork?"

"It looks like Ginny. See the hair?" Harry said. "I'm sure she's out here for a good reason. Why don't you go on in? I'm going to say hello."

Neville nodded. "All right, then. I'll see you back at Gryffindor."

As his classmate entered the school, Harry lengthened his stride to intercept her as she stalked towards the oak tree that guarded the banks of the lake. "Gin, wait up!" he called, the words sweeping to her ears on the chill wind that ruffled his hair and pinked his cheeks.

She stopped mid-stride and turned. When he got close enough to see her face, Harry paused. The smile slipped from his face. To anyone who wasn't Harry, Ginny looked furious. He recognized, however, that she was afraid, and she was using anger to counter her fear. It was acceptable for Gryffindors to be enraged, less so for them to be frightened. "What happened?"

Her throat worked; it kept closing up, she couldn't speak. Finally, she forced the words out, her voice higher than usual. "Dumbledore took me in his Pensieve."

Harry didn't like the sound of that. "What did you see?"

Ginny shut her eyes, but the gruesome scene was branded on the back of her eyelids. "Professor Moody."

"Oh, Gin." Harry wanted nothing more than to fold her in his arms and give her a reassuring hug, but he didn't dare touch her. If he showed her any sympathy, she'd break down. Ginny wouldn't thank him for shattering her control; she hated to show weakness.

She tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. "It was terrible. And he brought up auror training again. I didn't know what to say." She raised her eyes to his; they were dark, and bleak. "Harry, what am I going to do?"

"Did you know that Seamus and Dana were in Hogsmeade the night the Death Eaters attacked?" he asked. Ginny shook her head, and he continued, "Apparently Dana has some Otherworldly powers. She used them on a Dark Wizard."

"I know she has a bit of power," Ginny acknowledged. "Her sister does too. I saw it on Christmas."

"Gin, they tried to grab her when they saw that her magic was silver. If Dumbledore hadn't shown up when he did, Dana would've been Voldemort's prisoner. That could've been you."

"But it wasn't."

"But it could've been," he insisted. "You need to learn how to fight them off. You need to know the things auror training will teach you, so that someday you can face Voldemort on equal footing."

She exhaled, a harsh sound that wasn't quite a sigh. "That's not likely to ever happen, is it? _Equal_ footing? He's had about forty years practice at being a Dark Lord, and I've only been the Pendragon for two months."

"You've been the Pendragon for sixteen years. Longer than that, even. Auror training will start you out."

Ginny was quiet for a moment. She looked at the ground, at his trainers, scuffed and dirty against the rich white of the snow. "You should go," she said, glancing at the oak. It beckoned her, promised to soothe her frayed nerves and anxious mind. "I have to…You should go." Ginny thought she should inform Harry of Fudge and the Imperius curse, but she just didn't have the energy. 

"Will you be okay walking back to Gryffindor on your own?"

"I'm not a little girl, Harry. I think I can handle it."

He didn't take exception to her sharp tone. "I'll see you later then."

"Sure." She watched him walk the way she'd come, towards the castle. Her head down, fighting for control, Ginny walked over to the tree, wrapped her arms around it, and rested her cheek against its rough, cold bark. Trees were balm to her soul; she felt better almost immediately.

*****

Draco was on his way through the entrance hall toward the stairs that led to the hospital wing. When he paused to blow his nose in a handkerchief emblazoned with the Malfoy crest, something out the window caught his eye. Potter and Ginny Weasley stood outside, illuminated by the glow from the torches that sat in brackets along the outside walls of the school. They were talking so intently, a flaming meteor could've crashed into the front of the castle and Draco didn't think the Gryffindors would've paid it the slightest bit of attention. Then, Harry turned and walked towards the building. 

Draco leaned against the banister of the main staircase and waited. Potter was a strong wizard; one of the strongest Draco knew. He had rebuffed Draco's offer of friendship before, but some impulse told the Slytherin to extend the invitation once again. He loathed Potter, and probably always would, but personal dislikes had no place in his plan. With the Pendragon's other protector devoted to his cause, he'd have no problem bringing her under his control. Draco was going make his rival an offer he wouldn't refuse, unless he was abysmally daft. If Potter turned him down, more fool him.

The door latch echoed in the cavernous hall. Harry got three steps into the room before he noticed his nemesis leaning indolently against the stair rail. He'd have to walk by to get to Gryffindor tower. Silently repeating Hermione's words, _He's not worth the loss of house points. Don't let him get to you. Whatever he says, he's not worth it_, Harry held his chin high and walked toward the stairs, devoting every fiber of his being to ignoring Malfoy.

Unfortunately for Harry, Draco would not be ignored. He stood up straight and placed himself directly in the Gryffindor's path. "I'm glad you're here, Potter. There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

His tone gave Harry pause. Not since that morning on the Hogwarts Express six years ago had Draco spoken to him in a voice free from venom and malice. "What do you want?"

"I need to ask you something," Draco said, stepping down onto the stone floor and walking over to face Harry. The Gryffindor was an inch shorter than he; this pleased him. It gave him a psychological edge.

"Ask me something?" Harry wondered if maybe Malfoy was ill, or had amnesia, or anything that might explain his sudden change of attitude. He wasn't friendly, but he wasn't seething with animosity either. This was enough to put Harry on guard.

"How devoted are you, exactly, to the fight to overthrow Voldemort?" Draco asked, trailing his fingers along the windowsill and glancing out at the school grounds. In the moonlight he could just barely see Ginny, her arms thrown around a tree. How very strange.

Harry straightened and shot Draco a suspicious look. "That's a stupid question."

"There are no stupid questions. Only stupid people."

Harry drew his wand, not sure whether Malfoy had just insulted him. Draco held out his hands, palms facing Harry. "Pax, Potter. I'm not here to fight; I'm here to talk. What if I told you that our goals aren't so different?"

It wasn't sporting to point a wand at an unarmed opponent, so Harry slowly slid it back into his pocket. Draco lowered his hands and continued talking, seeing that he had the Gryffindor's curiosity. "I want to talk to you about the Dark Lord. I think you and I can both agree that he needs to be stopped."

Harry walked over, joining Draco at the window. "_Can_ we agree on that?" he asked, wondering if perhaps he had misjudged Malfoy all this time. Or if he was being set up.

"We can, and we do," Draco confirmed. "The two of us both plan to devote our lives to bringing about his downfall, just as Professor Moody did, and your father. If we worked together, think of how much we could accomplish."

"You're lying," Harry snapped, furious that Draco would even pretend to have anything in common with his father. "Your family's all as dark as they come. You'd never work against Voldemort unless there was something in it for you." His eyes widened at the look that crossed Draco's face, an acknowledgement of the truth of Harry's statement.

"Very good, Potter. There _is_ something in it for me, and for you too, if you're smart and play your cards right."

"The death of the darkest wizard in history is enough payment for me."

"How dreadfully noble of you." Draco paused, weighing his words carefully. He couldn't sound as though he was maligning the Headmaster; Potter worshipped the ground his idol walked on. "Tell me, what has Dumbledore offered you _after_ Voldemort is gone?"

"I don't understand."

"Has he given you any promises? Any guarantees of your place in the new order of things?"

"What do you mean?" Harry said slowly, wondering what Malfoy's point could possibly be. Whatever it was, Harry didn't think he was going to like it.

"The new order of things," Draco repeated. "With Voldemort gone, the world is going to change substantially. New people will rise, old players will be swept away."

"This is why you want Voldemort gone, then? So you can get power for yourself?"

"You have an annoying talent for making delightful words like 'power' sound quite distasteful. Tell me, Potter, what's wrong with power? You enjoy it yourself, on the Quidditch pitch, and at Dueling Club. This is just power on a grander scale—you love it so much now, imagine how you'll feel then. You could make those relatives of yours cower at your feet."

At his mention of the Dursleys, Draco glimpsed the same hungry desperation he'd seen in Delia Silvermoon. He'd found Potter's price. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Draco continued, his gaze trained, unblinking, on Harry's. "Paying them back for all the years they mistreated you, am I right? Giving them exactly what they deserve. Don't tell me you haven't dreamed about it. I can give it to you."

"Why would you do that?" Harry asked. Six and a half years of mistrust for Malfoy were not so easily forgotten. "Why would you ever give me anything?"

"I told you, we have a common goal, such as it is. I want the Dark Lord gone just as badly as you do. And it just so happens that you have something I want."

Harry would've laughed, had Draco not looked so earnest. "You can't be serious. The two of us, fighting him together…" he trailed off at the odd look on Draco's face.

"Not the two of us." He cast a look outside at Ginny, and then turned back to face Harry. "The three of us."

The exchange between Ginny and Dumbledore the night they'd found out about the Pendragon rushed into Harry's head. "_Or the second protector is the son of a Death Eater." "That is also a very real possibility."_

Harry stared at Draco. "You're the other one!"

"I am," he confirmed. "It's in her best interests that you and I stand together. I'm offering you the opportunity to work for the overthrow of Voldemort, with the promise of a vast amount of personal power afterwards. It's certainly more than Dumbledore can give."

"You're not including Dumbledore in this scheme of yours?" Harry asked, but then he answered his own question. "Of course not. He'd be in the way of your power trip."

"We don't need him," Draco said. "Not as long as we have her. We'll use her to snuff out the Dark Lord, and then we'll step in and fill the power vacuum."

"Who's we?"

"What, you think you're the first person I've talked to? There's a group of us, small right now but growing all the time. By ourselves, we wouldn't stand a chance against the Dark Lord. But she's the ultimate weapon."

"But she's _not_ a weapon," Harry protested. This conversation was making his head spin. "She's a person, and she'd never help you set yourself up in Voldemort's place."

"She would, if you supported my cause as well. As her protectors, the two of us together will be able to control her; you more so, since she already trusts you. This is what I'm asking in exchange." At Harry's dawning revulsion, Draco snapped, "Don't think I can't get to her without your help, Potter. Your support would make my path easier, but if you say no that doesn't mean I'm giving up on her." His face took on a cruel leer. "Think of your relatives, and how much you'd love to make them beg for mercy. You want that more than you want your next breath. You couldn't ever tell Weasley or Granger; they'd only judge you for it. But you and I understand each other. Take my hand, and we'll have a bargain. Revenge on your family and power beyond your wildest dreams in exchange for your aid in controlling the Pendragon."

Harry looked at Draco's outstretched hand. Ending Voldemort _and_ revenge on the Dursleys…_In exchange for your aid in controlling the Pendragon_. His confused thoughts crystallized; he raised his eyes to the young man's face. "Her name is Ginny," he said, "and you can go fuck yourself."

Draco blinked in surprise, and then slowly withdrew his hand, wondering where his misstep had been. "It was worth a try," he said with a smirk. Potter was too blind to see which way the wind was blowing, and someday he'd pay for it with his life. 

"When she finds out what you're planning, she'll never want anything to do with you," Harry bit out.

Draco didn't want Ginny to discover his identity for a long time; the closer she was to him, the more likely it was that Voldemort would steal her away before he was in a position to keep her. In addition, if Potter spilled his identity now, he'd have years to poison Ginny's mind against Draco and his plan. Priority number one was to keep Potter from talking. Time for some damage control. "You're going to inform her, then? So this is the fabled Gryffindor cunning at work. By all means, tell her about me. It sounds like a fantastic plan. A real winner."

Harry glared at Draco, but didn't dignify the Slytherin's taunting with a response. He was too busy holding himself back from breaking that elegant Malfoy nose to be capable of rational speech. Draco, seemingly oblivious to Harry's internal struggle, kept on talking. "I mean, I'm sure the Mórrígan has told her she has to find both protectors. Of course," and now he shot Harry a shrewd look, "I'm equally sure Dumbledore has told her to do no such thing. He wouldn't want to risk exposing her identity to Voldemort; there's no way he'd know that I'm just as much against the Dark Lord as you are, albeit for different reasons."

"What's your point?" Harry hissed through clenched teeth. Being around Malfoy made him feel unclean; he needed a long, hot shower to wash away the mental grime.

"My point is, if you tell her that I'm her other protector, she'll be in a bit of a quandary. Does she avoid me, or does she rush out and complete the mental link? Who to obey? The Mórrígan or Dumbledore? Which do you think she'd choose, Potter? And how badly would her choice hurt the Headmaster's cause? I do _live_ in Death Eater headquarters, after all. My plan could be exposed at any time. If I were linked with Ginny, Voldemort would know it in a heartbeat. All it would take is a bit of Veritaserum."

Harry felt ill. Draco had him cornered, that's all there was to it. He couldn't tell Ginny that Draco was her other protector. After Dumbledore's Pensieve display earlier that day, she'd jump at any opportunity to defy him. There was no question in Harry's mind that Ginny would choose Mórrígan. No doubt the goddess had her reasons for wanting Ginny to find both protectors as soon as possible, but that wasn't Harry's problem. His loyalty was to Dumbledore, and to the Headmaster's fight against Voldemort. "Never mind," Harry said, angry at being outmaneuvered. "I won't say a word."

"Then this conversation stays between us," Draco said, casting another glance out the window. Ginny had just detached herself from the oak and was moving toward the castle. "May the best man win, Potter." He brushed by Harry and then walked down the dungeon stairs; he didn't look back.

The door eased open and Ginny slipped inside. She saw Harry and smiled. "You didn't have to wait for me." But she was glad he did.

"Do you feel better?" he asked.

"A _lot_ better," she said with obvious relief. "I can't even explain what it is about trees. They're a connection with the Earth, and they all have this heart of Otherworldly life…I wish you could see it. It's the most peaceful thing I've ever looked at."

Harry thought uncomfortably about the secret he was now keeping from her. "Do you still have your sight on?"

She shook her head. "There's no point in the castle, is there?" She pulled up the cuff of her shirt and looked at her watch. "I should get back to the tower. I bet Ria is ready to lose it. She didn't want to leave me." Then Ginny remembered about Fudge and the Imperius Curse. She had to tell Harry. After all, what if Fudge showed up and wanted to take him somewhere? For a…photo shoot or whatever it was famous people did in their free time? "Harry, is there someplace we can talk? A lot happened today, and you should—"

Ginny paused as a house elf bustled into the hall and up to Harry, an envelope in her outstretched hand. Ginny recognized the loopy green penmanship on the summons. Harry tore the message open and scanned it. "He wants to see me."

"I'll see you tomorrow then," Ginny said. Dumbledore would fill him in on the Fudge situation.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Harry asked. She had been through a traumatic experience; he remembered how he had felt even months after the end of the Triwizard Tournament. Ginny hadn't seen anything less horrifying, he was sure.

"I'm not all right," she said softly. Harry was glad that she respected him enough to give an honest answer. She picked her chin up and looked him square in the eye. "But I will be. It'll take more than a trip through Dumbledore's Pensieve to break me."

*****

__

January 10, 1998

As usual, Ginny ate breakfast with her roommates. Gwen was running a comb through Shannon's chin-length hair. Ria made a face. "Could you not do that at the table? I don't need her hair in my food."

Shannon eyed Ria's porridge. "It might be an improvement. How can you eat that slop?"

"Don't let the house elves hear you call it slop," Ginny said, polishing off her last bite of toast. "They'd commit mass suicide."

Gwen dropped the comb, and wisps of hair went flying everywhere. "Don't even joke about that, Gin. It's not funny."

Ria grimaced. "I can't eat like this. It's disgusting."

"They've been primping at the breakfast table for six years," Ginny said. "By now you should've learned to live with it."

"She survives a Dementor attack and suddenly thinks she's my mother," Ria teased, crossing her eyes at Ginny.

Ginny crossed hers back. Ria shrieked as a mail owl dropped a red envelope in her bowl, splashing the thick brown porridge all over her shirt. "Dammit!" she cursed. "Gwen, clean me up, will you?"

"You mock the primping, but then when you're covered with slop I'm the one you come running to," Gwen said with a sly grin. "I think you owe me an apology, Ria."

"Just get rid of the stain," Ria said through clenched teeth, affecting a menacing expression.

"Repeat after me. I, Maria Johnson."

Ria cast Ginny a desperate look, but Ginny wasn't coming to her friend's aid. "Fine. I, Maria Johnson."

Gwen paused, and then turned to Shannon. "You do the rest. I can't think of any big words this early in the morning."

Shannon smoothly took over. "Hereby affirm that beauty charms are a valid, productive, appetizing use of time. In addition, porridge is gross."

Ria blinked. "Um…hereby affirm that charms are…Shannon I can't remember all that. And porridge _isn't_ gross. I happen to—oh my God!" The envelope was smoking. She pulled it out of her bowl and turned it to look at the address. "Who sent me a Howler? Hang on, this is for _you_!" Ria hurled the envelope across the table; it skidded and came to a halt in front of Ginny.

Now the Howler was smoking in earnest. "Hurry up!" Shannon cried, tossing Ginny a nail file. "Get it open!"

Ginny fumbled with the file, but quickly managed to slit the offending letter open. An angry scream reverberated off the walls of the Great Hall. For a moment the sound was so deafening Ginny couldn't make out any sense—it was just noise. When her ears got used to the decibel volume, however, the shouts that bounced around the stone room resolved themselves into words. "…It was my _favorite_ toy. I got it for Christmas from my _grandmother_, and you had to go and break it! What did I ever do to deserve such cruelty? An innocent child's toy broom callously destroyed by his annoying, jealous playmate. Ginny, do you have any idea how much that hurt? I _died_ that afternoon, and your mum's apple turnovers just barely brought me back to life." Bloody hell, it was Mike Fletcher.

The envelope burst into flames and was gone. The hall was silent. That was, without a doubt, the strangest Howler in Hogwarts memory. Every eye in the room was trained on Ginny Weasley, who sat, very pale, an unreadable look on her face. Slowly, she stood and walked over to the Ravenclaw table, every step echoing. Ron, who watched the scene with interest, thought he could've heard a pin drop, should anyone in the hall have a pin and then drop it.

Mike sat with his housemates, a girl on each side. One fed him scrambled eggs; the other cut the crusts off of his toast. He looked up and gave her a sunny grin. "Morning, Ginny. That was quite a show just now. Everyone is looking at you."

As a collective entity, the student body gasped at his audacity and then strained their ears to hear her response. "What," she bit out, "was that?"

The brunette to Mike's right held up a fork laden with eggs, and he motioned for Ginny to wait while he chewed. Then he smiled again. "Are you saying it didn't happen? The broom was my favorite toy. It worked just fine that morning, but you were alone with it for twenty minutes and it never flew again."

"Mike," Ginny choked out as the brunette offered another forkful of eggs. "I was _four_!" Her voice steadily increased in volume until she was shouting. "You had turned my hair green the day before! What was I supposed to do? Are you insane? You get revenge by sending me a—"

"Not revenge, Gin. Justice. Justice for Isobel."

Ginny's shoulders began to shake. Ron, who could only see her back, thought for one terrible moment that she was crying. But then a bubble of laughter spilled out from her lips, followed by another, louder and louder, until she laughed so hard she could barely breathe. Tension released, the rest of the hall laughed too and then returned to their usual conversations. Ginny gasped, "You named your broom _Isobel_?"

"After Isobel Miggs, the Mad Muggle's Mother." Mike still had that same sunny grin on his face. Ginny roared with laughter, long and happy. It was a sound her friends had sorely missed these past few months.

Without sparing the Ravenclaw girls so much as a glance, Mike jumped up from the bench and rounded the table, taking Ginny's hand. "Come on," he said in her ear. "Let's go do something fun."

She stood on tiptoe to whisper back, "What if I'd rather get into trouble?"

He whirled her around and, still laughing, they ran for the door. "It's Saturday, Gin," he said over the noise of the Great Hall. "No reason we can't do both."

*****

Ginny and Mike were not the only ones enjoying their day off. In the Reading Room, an area off of the main library that housed books mainly read for fun, Dana sat in an armchair and hummed softly as she skimmed the book in her lap. With her legs tucked beneath her she turned the page and frowned. "It figures. I just got comfortable and now I have to get a different book," she mumbled to herself. Setting _A Keeper's Guide to Quidditch_ to one side she unfolded her legs and stood.

Dana scanned the Quidditch volumes. After a few moments she realized the tome she was searching for was gone. "Now that's not fair," she murmured under her breath. "Who would want that book anyway?"

"Which book?" a familiar voice asked.

Dana turned with a grin. "_Flying With a Charming Chaser_. It's been misshelved, I think. It's not where it should be."

Seamus held his hand up and waved the paperback in front of her face. "Not misshelved. I've got it."

Dana tried to grab it, but he held it up over her head. "Give it over," she said, laughing. "I need it."

"What for?"

"In practice yesterday I had trouble blocking the Pythagoras dive. Dee is always telling me I need to understand the theory behind something before I can understand the thing itself, so I need the book."

"Sorry. It's not happening."

Dana jumped for the book, her mouth in a wide grin. After a few attempts, though, it dawned on her that Seamus wasn't kidding. "Come on," she said. "I need it."

"Well you're not getting it from me," Seamus told her. "Someday you're going to be moved up to first string keeper, and then what will happen? You'll be able to block the daring, brave Gryffindor Chasers' Pythagoras dives. I'm sorry, Dana, but my duty is clear."

Dana looked from the book high above her head, to his grinning face. Then she grabbed his sides and tickled. Hooting with laughter, he brought his arm down to ward her off. She grabbed the book and pulled, wrenching it out of his hands. "Ha! Victory is mine!"

Seamus's arm snaked around her waist, and he pulled her close, claiming her mouth in a heart-stopping kiss. Dana was momentarily shocked; Seamus hadn't ever been this forward with her before. Just as she was getting into it, though, he took advantage of her distraction and pulled the book away.

"Victory is _mine_," he corrected

Thinking two could play this game and hoping she hadn't misunderstood, Dana leaned into him and returned the favor, bringing her hands up to run her fingers through his hair. Seamus laughed against her mouth, knowing exactly what she was playing at. He kissed her back with equal enthusiasm, but held the book well out of her reach. Dana's hands crept down his back, traced around his waist, and then she pulled away, his wand in her hand. "_Accio_," she said, a devilish smile on her face.

"Unfair!" Seamus protested as the book flew out of his grasp.

"All's fair in love and Quidditch," Dana said, skipping out of reach. She handed the wand back and told him, "Next year's Gryffindor chasers appreciate your efforts, unsuccessful as they were. Better luck next time. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go meet my sister." She tossed a wink over her shoulder on her way out the door.

Seamus leaned against the shelf and watched her go, a silly grin on his face. How could a Slytherin make him feel this happy?

*****

Dana slid through the partially open door and closed it behind her, saying, "I hope this is the last thing you need, Dee, because I am not going to risk getting caught again. Professor Snape would be livid if he knew."

Delia consulted her parchment. "We've got everything. The tiger lily extract has to go in right before it's ready to drink." She took the jar from Dana and measured out a precise half-cup; dumping it into the cauldron that sat in the corner.

"Don't we need a fire?"

"The potion is brewed cold," Delia said tersely, eyeing the liquid inside. "Have we had a fire yet? Even once?"

"No," Dana answered, irritated at her sister's tone.

"Then why did you ask?" Delia took two tumblers from her bag and filled them with the ladle.

"Because it's the only way I'll get any information out of you sometimes," Dana muttered to herself.

Delia held out one of the tumblers. Dana eyed the potion skeptically. It was the color of vomit flavored beans. "Isn't there any way to make it look better?"

Delia made an aggravated sound. "Do you want to turn into an animal or not, Day? The book said," she fiddled with her notes, "the first step of the anamagus transformation is the potion to prepare the subject's physiology for transfiguration." 

Still, Dana didn't take the glass. "Are you sure you did it right? This is a hard recipe, and you're only a fourth year."

"For heaven's sake, Day, I'm not trying to poison you," Delia said, insulted at her sister's lack of faith in her potion abilities.

"In that case, you won't mind drinking yours first."

Delia looked hurt. "Since when are you the suspicious type?"

Sighing, Dana reassured her sister, "It's not that I think you'd poison me. Of course not. It's just, what if you made a mistake?" Seeing that her sister's feelings had not been soothed, Dana took the glass and downed the potion in one gulp, before she could lose her nerve. "Yuck! It even tastes nasty!" She ran for Delia's water bottle to wash out the acrid flavor.

Delia waited for Dana to finish and took the water bottle from her sister before picking up her own tumbler. "Well here goes." Taking a deep breath and steeling herself, she drained the glass and followed it very quickly with the water. "For once I have to say you were right. That was horrible."

Dana studied her sister. Delia didn't look any different. And Dana certainly didn't feel any different. "Are you sure it worked? Because if it didn't, we might as well scrap the whole project. I'm not going to steal all these ingredients a second time."

Delia went over to the table and shuffled them around, scanning the information. "According to my notes it takes months for the potion to completely take effect. At that time we'll be able to do the next step. I think there was a test you could do...here it is!" She pulled out her wand and pointed it at her sister, "_Transformio confirmio_!" A gold light shot from her wand and enveloped Dana, quickly fading to silver. Looking at her notes Delia said with a grin, "It worked! Try it on me."

Dana drew her wand (still not as fast as Ginny could, but she was getting better), and pointed it at her sister. "What were the words again?" Delia handed her the parchment, and Dana read over the incantation a few times, sounding it out.

"I can't believe I'm related to someone whose lips move when she reads," Delia remarked dryly.

Dana gave her sister a sarcastic look, and then performed the spell. Just as had happened with her, Delia's cloud turned from gold to silver.

Delia nodded, supremely satisfied with herself. "That's that. We have a whole year, now, to practice the next step."

"The charms, right?" Dana asked, scanning Delia's parchment.

"Right," Delia confirmed. She went back to the table and picked up a set of pages that she handed to her sister, taking back her original notes. "Learn those spells. I made you a separate copy but don't lose them."

"I won't, don't worry." She gathered her Quidditch book and went to the door, "I'd better get back to the common room." She opened the door a crack and, seeing that the way was clear, she slipped out leaving her sister to pick up everything else.

"And for goddess's sake, don't let anyone see. Those roommates of yours are a bunch of twits. I wouldn't want them turning us in," Delia called after her.

*****

__

January 12, 1998

The night was clear and cold. The stars and moon shone down on the Earth, bathing the castle and village in their pale silver light. Suddenly, though, the peaceful atmosphere took a sinister feel. Heavy gray clouds rolled in, covering the landscape with darkness oppressive enough to be felt. The nocturnal animals scattered, running for their burrows, flying for their nests, desperate to hide from the encroaching menace. In her tower room, Ginny's eyes flew open. She was momentarily disoriented, not sure what had jerked her out of sleep so violently. But then she heard it. The discordant sound of decay and evil, disrupting the symphony that played in the back of her mind. The tuneless screeching was loud, and grew louder. Only one thing could cause that sound, the noise of something that was an affront to nature itself.

The Dementors had left Azkaban.

__

HARRY! she screamed through the link. _WAKE UP!_

Ginny jumped out of bed and grabbed her black school robe from its hook on the wall. Shoving her arms into the sleeves, she grabbed her wand, wiggled her feet into a pair of trainers, and raced out the door without bothering to tie the laces.

Harry stumbled down the stairs and took in her appearance—black drawstring pajama pants and a black tank top under unclasped robes, untied shoes with no socks, hair tangled from sleep, and eyes wide with horror. "Are you all right?" he asked, his first thought for her safety. "Are you hurt?"

Ginny was glad to see that he had put on shoes and that he slept in sweatpants and a T-shirt. There was no time to waste waiting for him to change. She ran for the portrait hole. "We have to find Dumbledore right away."

Harry didn't question her; he tightened his grip on his wand and followed.

*****

Draco sat in his dorm, oblivious to Crabbe and Goyle's snores. Through the small slit of a window near the ceiling of their dungeon room, they watched the sky. "Do you know what time it's happening?" Blaise asked.

Draco saw the clouds roll in, covering the moon. He stood and grabbed his invisibility cloak from its place on the back of a chair. "It's started. They must be on their way."

Just before his head disappeared beneath the cloak, Blaise said, "Be careful, all right?"

Draco gave his friend a small smile. "Always." Then he vanished. His voice came once again, muffled by the cloak, "Gods, I hope she can make a decent Patronus." The door swung open, and then quietly shut. Blaise was left alone.

*****

Ginny and Harry sprinted up to the gargoyle statue that blocked the stairs to Dumbledore's office. Facing the stone guardian, they momentarily froze. "Password," Harry said frantically. "What's the password?"

"Figgy Pudding," Ginny tried, but the stone didn't move.

"Cockroach Cluster!"

"Stringmints!"

"Lemon Drops!"

"Vomit beans!"

The statue didn't move. "Come on! Open!" Ginny smacked it in frustration, and then groaned, shaking her hand at the sting.

"Well, well, well," an oily voice said from behind them. "Two students out of bed, and attempting to break into the Headmaster's office. This is quite an infraction of the rules, even for you two."

They whirled around to see Professor Snape eyeing them with what, on any other person, might be considered glee. "Let's see," he continued, "I think I'll make it fifty points each from Gryffindor for sneaking out, sixty points each for the break-in attempt, and," he eyed them scornfully, "another twenty from Miss Weasley for assaulting the statue."

Ginny said, "We need to speak to the Headmaster right away. The Dementors have left Azkaban; they're on their way here."

Harry's eyes widened at the news, but Snape showed no reaction. "Miss Weasley, just because you have had a nightmare does not mean you can go running through the school at all hours of the night. Another thirty points from Gryffindor for being unable to distinguish dreams from reality."

"You don't understand," Harry protested. "If she says that's what's happening, then it's the truth. Please, you have to let us up to see him."

Snape lifted an eyebrow. "I _have_ to, Potter?"

Ginny knew in that moment that Snape had no intention of letting them see Dumbledore, no matter how hard they begged. There was only one she could think of to convince him. She hooked a finger underneath her silver chain and pulled out the ring. Slipping her index finger through the talisman, Ginny held it up in front of Snape's face so that he could see the dragons etched on the sides. Her eyes bored into his. "Look. I know what I'm talking about. The Dementors have left Azkaban. Please, what's the Headmaster's password?"

He looked from the ring to her face and back again. He remembered that night in the forest, when he had felt as though she could see right through him; it all made sense now. Pushing between the two students, he strode over to the gargoyle and barked, "Canary Creams." The statue slid aside, and they took the steps two at a time.

*****

Draco stood in the shadows, his cloak covering every inch of him. He couldn't go too near the light; even invisible people cast shadows. He didn't want to be as obvious as Potter and Ginny. The teachers gathered in the entrance hall, clutching their wands in white-knuckled hands. Draco counted twenty people, twenty-one shadows. The two Gryffindors were under a cloak near the castle doors; he just knew it. Draco eyed the dark, lumpy shape on the wall; he didn't want to miss them if they moved.

Dumbledore assigned each Professor to an area of the grounds. Madame Pomfrey handed out bricks of chocolate. As the Headmaster moved about the room, Draco noted that he was making his way towards the door, and the invisible people beside it. Deciding that it was an acceptable risk, he slipped into the hall and skirted around the wall, keeping to the pools of shadow created by the torchlight. The room was very quiet; the teachers all looked deadly serious. Draco drew near enough to the door to hear the Headmaster murmur under his breath, "You two stay close to me," and then Harry's voice, "Understood."

The doors blew open, slamming against the walls on either side. Dumbledore, Harry, and Ginny only just managed to jump clear in time. Draco caught his foot on an uneven flagstone and almost tripped, but regained his footing just in time. He couldn't afford another mistake like that; exposure would ruin everything. Not for the first time, he found himself jealous of Potter and his many adventures. Draco didn't have the faintest idea of how to conduct himself in a combat situation; his strength came in manipulating people. Still, he thought as he clutched his wand tightly, he was invisible, and fully intended on staying out of the way. He could produce a halfway decent Patronus, if necessary, although he hoped it wouldn't come to that. The one time he'd ever been near enough to a Dementor to feel its effects, that day on the train his third year…Draco shuddered. He didn't ever want a repeat of that experience.

"They're here," Dumbledore said, his power gathering around him like an invisible storm cloud. The sight gave the rest of the Professors courage; they followed him out of the building without looking back. Just like a bunch of lemmings, Draco thought.

A frigid wind whipped across the grounds, lifting snow from the ground and blowing it into drifts. Ginny set her teeth against the cold and held tight to the Headmaster's invisibility cloak, praying that it wouldn't blow away. She wanted to cast a warming charm; she was still in her pajamas, after all, but knew that she'd need to save all her energy for what was coming.

The monsters advanced on the school. Hundreds of them stretched in a line, shoulder to shoulder, tall and faceless. Their shrieking music roared through her mind, and another sound too. _His_ voice, once again. "_Ginny, he's going to die. After tonight, the famous, great, good Harry Potter will finally be beaten by Lord Voldemort. Don't you feel proud?_" And from far away, on the other side of the link, she could hear the same voice, only older. "_Stand aside, you silly girl."_

All around her, the teachers were yelling, "_Expecto Patronum_!" Ginny focused on the first happy memory to come into her mind: waking up in the Chamber of Secrets to see Harry's face, white and worried, and knowing that Tom hadn't gotten him. That he was going to be fine. A silvery white bird burst out of the end of her wand, its wingspan at six feet across. With a shriek, it took flight, chasing the monsters down. Ginny struggled to get a good look, and then started in surprise. Her Patronus was a crow. Bright animals raced all over the grounds, charging down the Dementors. Some of them evaporated on contact with the Patronuses, others were driven back.

Still, though, they kept coming. Professors Gosselin, Sprout, and Montague had fallen to the ground, unconscious. Professors Figg and Dumbledore held their own; their Patronuses were the strongest on the field. Harry's had gone out a few times; he'd had to recast it. Ginny clutched her wand and focused with all her might on her happy thought, but _his_ voice wormed its way into her consciousness. "_Don't you want to know how I did it, Ginny? It's so tiresome being a genius when no one is around to admire your handiwork."_

"Shut up!" Ginny screamed aloud. Her crow began to flicker. Through it all, Tom continued his chilling monologue. "_I fed off of your emotions, Ginny. This is what happens when you let yourself feel. People take advantage, and then people die. It was so easy, Ginny. Your emotions made you weak, but they made me strong._"

"No!" she cried as the crow disappeared all together. Tom's words surrounded her mind; her vision began to close off, the world grew darker, and Harry's hand, warm and strong, closed around her upper arm.

"Gin," he called, turning his attention to her while trying his best to maintain his Patronus, "stay with me! You can't black out; we're never going to get rid of them without you. Whatever he's saying, it's not true!"

But it was true. She knew it, just as surely as she knew her own name. _"You stupid little girl! Opening yourself up so completely," _he laughed, high and cold, "_You gave me everything, didn't you. Everything you had to give. It's made you so easy to control. I'm very nearly real, and you're just a shell, a shadow of the person you were when we first met. We're going to go down to the chamber and wait for your hero to rescue you. He will, you know. And do you know what will happen then, Ginny?"_

"_Expecto Patronum_," she whispered. Nothing happened.

Professor Skylar fell.

"_I'm going to kill him. And I'll let you watch."_

"_Expecto Patronum_!" She was desperate, deep in the throws of panic. The spell didn't work.

"_You have a front row seat to history, Ginny. You should be on your knees thanking me. Perhaps you will after."_

"I won't! _Expecto Patronum_!"

"_You'll kneel before me and pledge yourself to me without a thought,_" Tom planned. "_Then, I'll brand you with my mark. It will certainly be a delightful shock to Dumbledore, and to your family, when they find your body in such a state._"

"Ginny," Harry said loudly, tightening his grip on her arm. "Stay with me. Stay on your feet. Think of a happy memory; you can do it."

Professor McGonagall fell.

Tom laughed. "_Don't try to fight me, Ginny. This is all your own doing, isn't it? Open the chamber._"

"Please," Ginny whispered. "Somebody please help me."

Pale and shaking, Draco could see that the professors were in trouble. More than half of them had fallen in the snow, and still the Dementors advanced. He didn't know what kind of special magic Ginny was supposed to be doing, but he hoped she'd start soon. Another few minutes and the monsters would be on him.

Suddenly, a bird came winging through the sky, flying hell-for-leather straight at the fray. It very nearly took his head off on its frantic rush towards the conflict. The animal landed on an invisible perch; Draco knew it must be Ginny's shoulder. By the light of Dumbledore's Phoenix Patronus, Draco made out that the bird was a crow.

Ginny felt its talons dig into her shoulder. The pain brought her vision sharply into focus. Tom's voice vanished as abruptly as though he had been turned off. She raised her wand, suddenly confident that the spell would work. "_Expecto Patronum_!"

A raging amount of Otherworldly power slammed into Ginny with enough force to make her scream in pain. It filled her body, coating her nerves and veins, bones and muscles, and then flowed into her arm and shot out through her wand. The huge crow flashed blinding silver, and soared towards the monsters, screaming as it went. The Dementors unlucky enough to get in its way dissolved with a shriek that raised the hairs on the back of her neck. The others retreated to the edge of school grounds, and vanished. As soon as the last Dementor was gone the crow, too, disappeared.

As soon as they were gone, the fallen teachers started coming around. Madame Pomfrey moved among them, handing out chocolate. No one paid any attention to the crow that perched in midair. No one but Draco, and Dumbledore.

The teachers slowly reentered the castle, the stronger ones helping those who were shaking and weak. Inside, they were silent for a moment, unable to believe that they had truly survived the danger without a single casualty. Then, the questions started. "Who's was the crow? Was it yours?" "No, I had the bear. Maybe yours?" And then Flitwick's tiny voice piped up, "No, mine was an owl. Maybe it was—"

"Perhaps we should continue this conversation in the staff room," Dumbledore said. "Ring for the elves to bring up warm drinks and, Poppy, make sure everyone has plenty of chocolate."

The Professors, flushed with victory but tempered by the horror of the memories they'd been forced to relive, slowly wandered out of the entrance hall. None of them noticed that Dumbledore hung back.

Once his coworkers were out of sight, the Headmaster strode quickly to the door. Still covered with the cloak, still with a bird perched on her shoulder, Harry and Ginny went inside. Draco just managed to slip in behind them before the Headmaster pushed it closed again. He moved, quickly yet quietly, an acceptable distance away. It wouldn't do to have any of them running into him. He wanted very much to return to his dorm where he and Blaise had stockpiled bars of Honeydukes chocolate in preparation for tonight, but his work wasn't yet done.

"There's no one here to see you," Dumbledore said. "You can take the cloak off."

As Draco watched, Harry and Ginny appeared from beneath the fluid silver fabric. The crow gave a little hop, and then returned to her perch on Ginny's shoulder. Harry busied himself with casting warming charms on her. Ginny studied her shoes and didn't look up.

The Headmaster watched her for a moment and then said, "He was trying to draw you out. This is the second time in as many months. It's never going to stop, and you're never going to be safe. Your family, your friends, the people you care about, none of them are safe. He'll hunt them all down. You must be trained to protect them. The auror division can and will teach you the skills you'll need."

Draco froze. If she became an auror, it would put a nearly insurmountable stumbling block in his plans.

Ginny raised her eyes to Dumbledore's face. "What will I have to do?"

In that moment, Draco's despair turned to hope. Her gaze was flat and cold, dead. He could see no emotion in her at all, beyond anger. She had that in spades. Given time, her fury would fester and turn into resentment for the Headmaster and his cause. She'd be ripe for persuasion.

Harry saw the same thing Draco did, and his heart constricted with worry. Whatever memory it was the Dementors had made her relieve, and he was pretty sure it had been Tom Riddle, it had changed her. During the battle, however brief it might have been, Ginny had grown hard. Childhood was gone forever, nothing now but a collection of memories and faded photographs; she was an adult now, for better or worse. Her eyes were the oldest he'd ever seen. Older than the Headmaster's. It was the look he'd seen in Sirius, in the months following his godfather's escape from Azkaban. Harry felt lost at the idea of Ginny suffering so, and nearly despaired at the idea that there was nothing he could do for her. Chocolate helped, but time was the only thing that could truly heal wounds caused by Dementors.

Dumbledore was also troubled by the look in her eyes, but he didn't comment. Instead, he told her, "An agent from the division will meet with you and Harry in a few months, to discuss the training program. I'm glad you see the importance of using your powers to fight Death Eaters, Ginny. The wizarding world will be safe under your protection."

Ginny trained her bleak gaze on the Headmaster for a moment more, and then dropped her eyes back to the ground. "Thanks for the warming charms, Harry. I'm going to bed."

She turned on her heel and walked away without another word and Harry, after an eloquent glance at Dumbledore, followed.

Congratulating himself for getting through the attack without dying or doing anything embarrassing, Draco slipped down the stairs to the Slytherin dungeon.

*****

In the sixth years' dorm, Ginny's friends all slept soundly. She couldn't believe that they were completely oblivious to the chaos that had briefly reigned outside. The crow hopped off of her shoulder and perched on her finger. It was heavy. Ginny said, "I expect I'll be seeing you later." The bird cocked its head in acknowledgement, and then flew to the windowsill. Ginny pushed the glass aside, and Mórrígan was gone.

*****

__

Ginny found herself in the middle of a field. It looked like the one she'd visited on her first trip to the Otherworld, except that it was now full of uniformed people who ran to and fro, in and out of brightly colored tents and pavilions. In a small shelter nearby, a blacksmith tempered a sword; the clang of his hammer on the steel reverberated in her ears. The smoky smell of food cooked over a campfire enticed her nearer to the center of camp, but Ginny was distracted by a most remarkable sight. A roped-off area had been kept empty; men and women dueled there, using brilliantly made, deadly looking weapons. Ginny picked out a mace, three swords, and two axes, along with instruments whose names she didn't know.

A hand dropped on her shoulder, and she turned away from the soldiers to face the goddess. "What's going on? Who are these people?"

"They are my army, Virginia." At the Pendragon's confused expression, Mórrígan said, "I'm a war goddess. Surely you must have deduced that I have soldiers under my command. You're not that stupid. Or maybe you are."

She looked around the camp. Those who weren't practice fighting were polishing and sharpening weapons. "It looks like you're getting ready for war."

"So it does," Mórrígan acknowledged, turning and walking away. A long, deadly sword had joined the daggers around her waist. Ginny followed her through the camp, past a corral of snorting, stamping horses and another two practice fields, until they came to a rich pavilion set apart from the rest. This must be where the goddess slept.

"Who are you fighting against?" The idea that anyone would dare challenge the Mórrígan was beyond her comprehension.

The goddess paced in front of her and adopted the lecturing tone of one of her professors, albeit with a great deal more impatience. "I am not preparing for a war, but for the threat of war. The first step to being a successful general is analyzing the severity of threats and then taking steps to neutralize them."

Ginny was momentarily arrested by Mórrígan's demeanor. For the first time ever, the goddess seemed tense, on edge. "Virginia, are you paying attention?" she snapped.

"Neutralize them," Ginny repeated back. "I'm listening."

The goddess sent her a frustrated look, and then turned and disappeared inside her pavilion. She came out with a long, deadly looking sword and handed it to Ginny, who gingerly grasped the handle. It was heavy.

"Do you know how to use one of these?"

"No."

"You're about to learn." Mórrígan unsheathed her own weapon, and Ginny took a step back. "There are no cowards in my service. You will fight with bravery, or you will answer to me."

"In your service? Who said anything about my serving_ you?" Ginny had a moment of panic, thinking that the goddess intended to keep her in the Otherworld. Ginny didn't know how to get back on her own._

"I saved your life at your school tonight. You owe me a life debt," Mórrígan said.

"A life debt means that someday I'll save your life," Ginny protested. "You're a goddess; you'll never be able to collect on a life debt."

Mórrígan raised the point of her sword. "Don't display your ignorance. You will pay off this debt, starting now. First, you must learn to use a sword. One day, you'll have your own, but this one will do for now. The old man doesn't understand; he thinks mortals can teach you the skills you'll need. You were wise to go along with his plan, but I will be the one to instruct you. We are bound by your debt, Virginia, forever. You will do as you're told, study tactics and strategy, develop your powers, and someday you will serve your purpose."

"What's my purpose?" Ginny asked, hefting the sword. Its point wavered; it was too heavy for her to hold still.

"To save your people, and mine."

----------------------------------------

A/N Part 2: And that's it for tales from Ginny's sixth year. The sequel to "The Rebirth" will pick up when Ginny is twenty-two. We'll have an epilogue in between now and then that will hit on all the high points of the six years between fics.

The list of honor: Thanks so much for your reviews!

Joyce83, Amanda R, star beneath the stairs, marycherry22, Silvestria, karei, sundrip77, Donna, Nigel, Arabella F., Emma, Elissa, T, Ginny, princess_perfect, AthenaStar and anyone whose name I might have missed..

You all are my heroes.

Hey, you! Yeah, you! Has anyone every told you that you'd make a great muse? Join my other muses at the HP Pendragon yahoo group. groups.yahoo.com/group/HPPendragon. There's fanart, writing contests, ficlets, outtakes, and fun to be had by all. I'd love to see you there.

The chapter has now ended.


	12. Epilogue Part One

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Title: The Rebirth – Epilogue part one

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Author name: Irina   
**Author email:** irina@schnoogle.com

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Category: drama, romance  
**Keywords: **Ginny, destiny, angst, romance, drama  
**Spoilers: **All four books  
**Rating:** R

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Summary: So why _did_ Voldemort try to kill Harry? An ancient power has reawakened and the answers to all the mysteries lie with Ginny Weasley.

****

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

A/N: Thanks to my beta readers, Danette and DRI. They're super. Thanks as well to Star Beneath the Stairs, for pinch hitting for DRI while her internet is out. Check out Star's stuff on ffn; you won't be sorry. A great big thank you to my muses at the HP Pendragon yahoo group. You all are great. If you want to join them, point your browser to groups.yahoo.com/group/HPPendragon. I'd love to see you there.

FYI: This epilogue bridges the five-year gap between the end of _The Rebirth_ and the beginning of _Galatea_. It hits on all the important things in our characters' lives. Because it covers five years, it's quite long. I've divided it into three parts. This is part one. All parts are finished, but I'm going to post them over a week or so. If you just can't wait, you can find the complete epilogue in the files section of the HP Pendragon yahoo group. 

B/N: Irina has been kind enough to let me make a Beta Note before this chapter. I know it's long, but how can you cram four months of memorable and sleepless nights into one paragraph?

Fans, Listies, and Muses: I just wanted to let you all know that I've spent countless hours enjoying your opinions and thoughts on certain aspects of the Rebirth. Y'all are precious and irreplaceable to an author and her betas. You have no idea how much your simple sentences and replies to e-mails affected the outcome of this fanfiction. I just wanted to thank you for sticking through all my taunts, teases, and occasional outbursts. It's been a pleasure getting to know y'all and I am looking forward to the grand times ahead of us. 

Irina: I want to thank you for trusting me with your *baby*. I honestly have no clue how I got into this position, but I'm enjoying it and will keep it as long as you'll tolerate me. ;) 

Danette: you are a spectacular lady and it's been a great honor being considered "one half of Irina's wonderful beta team". I really consider you my superior and I'm hoping I can live up to you. 

As for this epilogue, It's magnificent. I know y'all will love it. I have to admit, though, when Irina sent me the outline for this, I was said "Oh my God, you're going to fit all _that_ into one chapter??" I was truly afraid that it would jump around too much and y'all would be left wondering, "What the hell just happened?" However, when Irina sent me the first two years of this monstrosity, I was relieved. I think my exact words to her were "Irina, you've calmed my troubled soul." She had pulled it off wonderfully. 

While I was reading through, I thought of Harry and his first trip using Floo Powder. In Cannon, it tells us that Harry could see glimpses of the rooms beyond the fireplaces as he was swirling through time and space. That's how I felt while I was reading this. It was as if Irina had sent me on a Floo trip half way around the world, and every so often, I saw what was happening in other homes, other offices, and other worlds. When I finished, I sat back in my chair and said, "It's perfect. Absolutely perfect." I hope y'all will feel the same way when you get finished with Irina's last installment of _The Rebirth_. 

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Epilogue Part One

Year One—1998

January:

"You _showed_ him the ring?" Dumbledore asked incredulously.

"It was the only way he was going to let us up to see you," Ginny replied, defensive of her decision.

"He'll have to be _obliviated_," the Headmaster declared. Snape sat in the chair next to Ginny and watched the scene play out, his face betraying none of his thoughts on the matter.

"Is that your decision for everything? Just _obliviate_ anyone who gets in the way of your plans? You're acting like a Slytherin!" She glanced at Snape. "No offense."

Snape said sharply, "Miss Weasley, mind your tone. Show the Headmaster proper respect."

"I'll speak to the Headmaster any way I damn well want to," Ginny snapped, "especially when I'm trying to keep your memory intact, Professor."

Snape opened his mouth to deliver a blistering retort but Ginny spoke first, once again addressing Dumbledore. "I wasn't in a position to stop you from _obliviating_ my brother and Hermione, but I'm not going to let you do it to Professor Snape. It's wrong."

"Ginny," Dumbledore said, tenting his fingers, "he's a double agent, spying against Voldemort. If he were discovered, the Dark Lord could learn your identity."

"Memory charms can be broken," Ginny pointed out. "Remember Bertha Jorkins?"

"Nevertheless—"

"I trust Professor Snape," she interrupted. "I've seen inside of him, and I trust him with my life. Do _you_ trust him with my life, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore was silent for a moment, studying the girl who glared at him with a mutinously stubborn set to her chin. "I suggest we hear Severus's opinion."

Snape was surprised to be asked. He was used to following orders, in not having a say in what happened. He turned to look at Ginny; he never thought he'd see the day when one of those damnable Weasley siblings would leap to his defense. He said stiffly, "You trust me with _your_ life, but do you trust me with the lives of your family and friends? Because that's what's at stake. Not your life, but theirs." He pulled up his left sleeve to reveal his mark, livid red against the pale of his skin. The skull and snake—Tom had very nearly burned this brand into her arm. Ginny repressed a shudder as Snape continued, "Look at that mark, at what I was, and tell me if you can trust me with the lives of the people you love."

Ginny saw the guilt in him, the anger and bitter recrimination that weighted down his soul. Here was a man sorely in need of redemption. He wasn't asking Ginny Weasley for her trust; he was asking the Pendragon. She raised her eyes to his and said firmly and without hesitation, "Yes I can."

It wasn't the answer Snape had expected to hear. He looked back at Dumbledore, letting his sleeve fall back to his wrist. "I believe you have my answer."

Dumbledore tried once more. "Ginny—"

"Professor Snape would die before he'd say a word about me. Leave his memory alone."

The Headmaster looked at them both, an odd alliance if there ever was one, and said merely, "Very well."

Ginny could hardly believe he'd given in. She flashed them both a relieved smile. "You won't be sorry."

"I'm sure I won't," Dumbledore agreed, his eyes twinkling kindly. Having Ginny leap so vehemently to his defense had done Severus a world of good; that much was plain to anyone with eyes. "Doesn't the Gryffindor team have Quidditch practice in an hour?"

She looked at her watch, and then jumped up from her chair. "Oh! I have to go! Seamus, Ria, and I were supposed to go over some new formations before practice." She grabbed her schoolbag and nodded goodbye to both men before disappearing through the door.

Snape sighed. "I hope she doesn't ever regret her choice."

Dumbledore conjured up two snifters of brandy. "She's the Pendragon, Severus," he said with a smile. "If she's not a good judge of character, who is?"

*****

March:

Harry and Ginny sat across the desk from the official from the auror division. He was a stern looking man who was completely unimpressed at meeting the famous Harry Potter and downright annoyed at learning that the other recruit was a mere sixteen years old—much younger than the regulation age limit. Still, Albus Dumbledore had insisted upon her, and Albus Dumbledore had pull. He glanced through the students' files and then looked up at them. The boy nearly burst with nervous excitement. The girl looked tense, as though she wanted nothing more than to run from the room. She didn't want to be there, that was obvious.

"I assume the Headmaster has filled you in on the arrangements for next year," he began. "Miss," he glanced at his file again, "Weasley, you will train three hours per day during the week, during the hours you would normally have Transfiguration and DADA. You will train on weekends as well. I believe travel arrangements have been made…yes, here it is. You will go by floo, as you're not yet old enough for an apparation license."

Ginny nodded. This man thought she wouldn't last, because she was so young. She'd prove him wrong. She might not want to be an auror, but now that she was going to be, Ginny was determined to show that she could be just as good at it as Harry, and the other people from his class who had signed up with the division—Ron, Seamus, and Justin Finch-Fletchley, to name a few. As the youngest person and the only girl in her training class, Ginny would have to work twice as hard to prove herself.

"Well," the agent said, opening one last file, "I believe we've covered all the information except, of course, your code names."

Harry perked up at this. He'd been looking forward to getting a code name ever since Ron had received his, Agent Hermes. Ginny had teased him for being named after Percy's owl, but Harry thought it fit Ron—clever, good at strategy, quick witted. He was eager to see what the Ministry had decided to name him.

The auror looked at Ginny first. "Your code name will be Agent Jezebel."

Ginny was dumbfounded. "That's a _terrible_ code name."

He fixed her with a stern look. "It's an excellent code name. Jezebel was a great, powerful pagan queen in the Jewish scriptures."

"Jezebel was eaten by dogs." At Harry's quizzical look, Ginny explained, "I read a lot." Then she turned back to the auror. "Can I have another name please?"

"Each code name is specifically chosen for the agent in question," the auror said, irritated that she would even ask. This one was going to be trouble; he could tell already. "Once a name is assigned, it is final." Ginny sank back in her chair, a sulky look on her face, and the agent turned to Harry. "Mr. Potter, your code name is Agent Midas."

Harry couldn't help but be pleased. "He's the one who judged the ancient Greeks after they died, right?"

"No," Ginny said, unsuccessfully stifling a smile. "That's _Minos. Midas_ was the bloke who wished that everything he touched would turn into gold."

Well that was different, to be named after a greedy man rather than a wise one. Harry sat back in his chair, his expression no less disgruntled than Ginny's had been. She sensed his thoughts through the link and nudged his foot with hers to get his attention. "It's a fitting name for the Wizarding World's golden boy, and it's lots better than mine."

That was certainly true. Harry gave her a small smile and the agent cleared his throat. "You two will report to the auror division the first week in June; the first three months will involve rigorous physical and procedural training. Then you will have an examination to determine your strengths. Upon completion of the exam, you will be sorted into one of the division's subdepartments—for example, you could become a strategic planner, a field agent, an incarceration specialist, or one of any number of jobs. This will be followed by eight months of specialization training, where you will develop your skills in your assigned area. Any questions?" Both students shook their heads no, and the agent gathered up his things and left without another word. He wanted to get back to the office; talking to these children had wasted enough of his time already.

Once alone, Harry turned to Ginny and asked, "Have you told your friends about all this yet? Because if you haven't, it would be a good idea."

Ginny nodded. "I told them a few weeks ago that I'd be a part-time student next year so that I could go through auror training. When they asked why, I said it was because I want to start work right away after finishing school, to help support my parents. Everyone knows my family hasn't got any money; they bought it without question."

"Even Ria?"

"Of course," Ginny said with a bitter smile. "Ria is my best friend. She knows I would never lie to her."

*****

July:

Ginny faced her opponent. Seamus grinned at her from across the floor, but then Agent Bloom, their hand-to-hand combat trainer, blew his whistle and her friend's good-natured smile disappeared. They circled each other cautiously, each one looking for an opening. Seamus feinted, but Ginny didn't rise to the bait. His second lunge at her was genuine; she ducked low and threw her shoulder into his pelvis. Seamus tumbled over her head and landed on his stomach. He flipped onto his back and Ginny, who was still standing, planted her foot on his throat before he could rise.

Gasping for air, Seamus grabbed her bent knee and pulled. Ginny crashed face-first into the floor but rolled quickly. He scrambled on top of her and pinned her arms above her head, only then allowing himself another grin. "I win."

Ginny brought her knee crashing up into his groin. When he released his hold on her wrists and doubled up in pain, she rolled from beneath him and jumped to her feet. "_I_ win." That was the third time she'd beaten Seamus with a well-placed knee  


Agent Bloom blew his whistle. "Match to Jezebel. Take a seat, O'Darby."

Ginny helped Seamus up and watched him limp off the floor. She turned to the rest of her training class and asked, "Who's next?"

"Next we'll have Agent Tyr and Agent Hermes."

"But," Ron said, "Ginny won the match. She gets the next fight."

"Let's give Jezebel a bit of a rest," Bloom said gently. "That was a tiring bout she just had."

"It was barely thirty seconds long," Ginny said. "I'm fine." The boy trainees fought until they lost, but Bloom always insisted on giving Ginny a rest—it was infuriating. Moreso because Harry, Ron, and Seamus were the only ones in her combat class who ever stood up for her.

The trainer gave her a paternalistic smile. "Why don't you have a seat, Jezebel. You can have another go in a few minutes."

Ginny seethed, but what could she do? She was just about to step off the training floor, though, when Harry spoke up. "Agent Bloom, in Jezebel's last bout I noticed that she tends to drop her right shoulder when in the ready position. Maybe you should show her how to do it properly. An agent with your kind of fighting experience, after all…."

"Good thinking, Midas," Bloom said. "Jezebel, come back here a moment."

Ginny shot Harry a grateful smile and trotted back to the center of the floor. Bloom moved behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders. Sure enough, her right was lower than her left. "Keep your weight evenly distributed," he instructed, speaking slowly as though he thought she might have trouble understanding his words. "Midas is correct; you're leaning to the right. It puts you off balance." The trainer moved around in front of her and dropped into the ready position. "You see, when you lean to one side, you're easier to knock down."

He swung at her, and Ginny ducked beneath his arm. On her way up, she landed a stunning blow to his chin, snapping his head back. He recovered quickly and let loose with two quick punches, the second knocking Ginny right off her feet. She fell to the floor, in a world of pain. Still, it had been worth it to hit him right in his smug, sexist face. She couldn't help but grin as she ran her tongue over her teeth to make sure none had been knocked loose.

"What are you smiling at?" Bloom snapped. "Your stance is all wrong. You're never going to cut it in this division unless you fix your mistakes."

She pushed herself to her feet and faced the teacher. "It won't happen again, sir," she said through her bruised lip, which was beginning to swell. "Shall we have another go?" Ginny dropped back into her fighting pose, legs bent, arms up. She made sure her weight was evenly distributed and faced the trainer.

"No," he snapped. "Go have a seat, Jezebel."

"But I won the last bout," she protested.

"One hundred pushups for insubordination, and then _have a seat_. I'll call you up when I think you're ready to fight again, and not a moment sooner. Now get out of my sight."

Ginny looked at him for a long moment, and then turned and stepped off of the raised fighting mat. Ron looked mad enough to spit nails, but Harry gave her a sympathetic look. "Thanks," she whispered to him as she walked by.

"Anytime," he murmured back.

Ginny went into the corner and dropped down into the pushup position as Ron and Justin began their bout. Fifty pushups later her arms were burning, but she still grinned ear to ear. She'd been dying to punch Bloom for the past month; given the chance to do it over again, she wouldn't change a thing.

*****

August:

Ron and Ginny walked through the division's offices, neither one speaking. They were both as nervous as hell. Today was the day they would get the results from their evaluations, assigning them to a department within the division. Harry was already there, reading a sheet of orange paper. He turned and smiled when he saw them. "I'm a field agent."

"Well done, Harry," Ron said. "That's right up our alley, isn't it, what with all the things we got up to at school."

Ginny rifled through the envelopes until she found hers and Ron's, right next to each other. She tore hers open and saw that her sheet was also orange. "I'm a field agent too," she said, scanning the short letter that reported the strengths and weaknesses brought out by the division's grueling exams.

"Excellent, Gin," Ron said, grinning as he opened his own scores. His sheet, however, was blue. He frowned as he scanned the evaluation. "I've been assigned to strategic planning."

"That's great," Ginny said, giving him a big smile. He was disappointed, she knew, and she wanted to cheer him up before he said something he'd regret later. "It's perfect for you; you're so good at chess. You'll be able to outthink Death Eaters with no problem."

"Still," Ron said, crumpling his letter, "it's hardly what you two are going to be doing, is it? You'll be in the thick of it while I'm sitting behind a desk somewhere."

Seamus waved at them from across the office. The sheet he clutched in his hand was orange. Ron gave an exasperated sigh. "Seamus took nearly two months to win a bout, and _he_ gets sent to the field?"

"He's not so good at hand-to-hand," Harry pointed out, "but he was great at dueling."

__

You're not helping, Ginny silently admonished.

Ron looked more annoyed than ever. "I wonder if I can put in for a transfer."

Andrew Shepherd, another recruit in their class, strolled up. "Hey, Hermes, a blue letter! I've got one too!" He brandished his assignment proudly. "Excellent; we'll be working together."

"It's not like we'll be in the field," Ron said glumly. "We'll probably never even _see_ a Death Eater."

Andrew clapped him on the back. "Come on, mate. We'll be the ones telling those orange-sheeted blokes what to do. The strategists are the ones who give the orders; the grunts in the field department just follow them."

Ron's scowl slid from his face as he considered this information. The idea that, for once in his life, he'd be the one in charge was very attractive. "I'll see you next month at training, then," he said to Andrew.

The other strategist grinned. "I'll be there."

As he walked away, Ginny excused herself from her brother and Harry and jogged after him, weaving her way through the crowd of trainees waiting for their assignments. "That was fantastic," she said as she caught up to him. "Thanks for cheering him up."

Andrew turned and grinned at her, his teeth flashing white against his black skin. "It was no problem. I like Ron, but I know how he can be."

"Ginny Weasley," she said, "Agent Jezebel."

"Right," he said, shaking her hand. "The girl." At her sudden frown, he laughed. "Don't take it personally. It's just that you're the only girl here. I could've just as easily said 'the young one.' Listen, do you want to get something to eat?"

"I'm sorry, I can't," Ginny said. Andrew seemed very friendly, and she knew it would be a good idea to start making friends within the division. "I'm supposed to get lunch with my brother and Harry this afternoon. We're meeting Ron's girlfriend at Diagon Alley."

"Another time then?" he asked.

"Absolutely."

Andrew smiled at her once more. "I'll hold you to that, Ginny Weasley Agent Jezebel." He pushed open the door to the hall and left the office.

__

I'd rather you'd been assigned to strategic planning too, Harry said in her mind. _I don't like the idea of you running all over the place, chasing after Dark Wizards_.

__

Fieldwork is the whole reason Dumbledore put me in this program, Ginny pointed out as Ron and Harry joined her at the door. _He'll be thrilled._

__

Are you_ thrilled?_ Harry asked.

Ginny didn't answer. She smiled at her brother instead, and chatted with him all the way out to the fireplace in the lobby, which they used to floo to the Leaky Cauldron.

*****

September:

Seamus used the floo network to get to Hogsmeade; after the Dementor attack Dumbledore had so extended the wards around the school and village that apparition was impossible within a ten-mile radius. He tumbled out of the fireplace in the Three Broomsticks, newly reopened, and looked around. The students were just starting to trickle in, laughing and talking. Seamus scanned the crowd for Dana, but didn't see her yet. She was late.

He wandered over to the bar, thinking to get the drinks before she arrived, and spotted Harry sitting at the other end, sipping a mug of Butterbeer. Seamus grinned and called out to his friend, crossing the room to talk to him. "What are you doing here?" Harry asked.

"Hogsmeade weekend. I'm meeting Dana."

Harry grinned and licked the foam off of his upper lip. "So you two are still together?"

"She's not sick of me yet," Seamus said, turning away to place his order. "How about you? What are you doing here? It's going to be all kids this afternoon."

"My flat is just up the street," Harry explained, scanning the pub's growing crowd. "I got thirsty, and since it's my day off, I figured 'Why not?'"

Seamus eyed his friend. "You're here looking for Ginny Weasley." It wasn't a question.

Harry's cheeks turned pink in the dim light. "Is it that obvious?"

"The way you followed Cho Chang around for a solid two years…let's just say it was a lucky guess." Madame Rosmerta brought Seamus's drinks over and he dug around in his pocket for money. "Can I give you some advice?" Harry nodded and Seamus said, "Girls don't like to be stalked."

Harry laughed uncomfortably. "I'm not _stalking_ her."

"Okay, girls don't like to be followed. Trust me on this one. Did you ever get anywhere with Cho?"

"That might have been because I was indirectly responsible for the death of her boyfriend."

Seamus rolled his eyes. "No one with any sense believes that. All the same, trust me on this. Back off a little. Let Ginny see what she's missing by not having you around all the time. You see her at training every day. That's enough, don't you think?"

"You're telling me to play hard to get."

"Exactly."

"That's a stupid idea, Seamus."

Just then, a red-haired girl barreled through the crowd and hurled herself at Seamus. He laughed and put his arms around her waist, spinning her around. "You missed me, then?"

"_Yes_," Dana answered. "That's a stupid question."

"That's twice in five seconds that I've been called stupid. Do you want the Butterbeer or not?" She nodded, and Seamus continued, "Then you'd better be nice to me. I have to take it from Potter, I don't need it from you too."

Dana's expression darkened as she glanced at Harry. "Has he been—"

"It's okay," Seamus said, wanting to head her off before she did something rash, like pulling her wand on Harry. "You don't need to defend my honor this time. He's very sorry for what he said, and now he's going to take my advice and go home."

Harry drained the last of his drink and hopped off of his chair. "Right then. I'm off. Have fun, you two."

"You're doing the right thing, mate," Seamus said, clapping Harry on the back. "I'll see you Monday."

As soon as he was gone, Dana took her mug in one hand and slipped her other into Seamus's, pulling him over to an empty table. "How's your training going?" she asked. "Tell me everything."

Over her shoulder, Seamus saw Ginny enter the pub, hand in hand with Mike Fletcher. He was glad Harry had gone home; that wasn't something his friend would've wanted to see.

*****

November:

Dana and Delia crept through the doors of the school and ran as quietly as possible across the grounds. It was night, but the moon rode high in the sky and lit their way. Their breath formed little clouds of condensation, but they both were warm under their winter cloaks. Rounding the corner of the broom shed, the twins leaned against the wall and gasped for breath. "This is as good a place as any," Delia said when she could finally talk. "The charm has to be performed outside during the full moon; we might as well do it here. This spot is out of sight from the castle."

Dana glanced around, her cheeks pink with cold. "What if someone comes by?"

"We'll tell them it's a Prefect matter and to mind their own business," Delia said, pulling the creased pieces of parchment from her pocket.

Dana grinned at her twin. "Brilliant plan, Dee. You should've been a Slytherin."

"Gods forbid," she retorted dryly. "All right, first thing we have to do is draw a circle in the dirt. Do you see a stick anywhere we can use?"

Dana glanced around, but Hagrid kept the Quidditch pitch spotless. "I don't see anything. Use your wand."

Delia frowned. "Be serious, Day. This is hard magic. You have to focus."

"All right," Dana said, "I'll use mine then." She bent down and touched her wand to the ground, then traced out a circle. Dirt churned up behind the wand's tip. When Dana finished, she grinned at her twin as she wiped the wood clean on her robes. "Next step?"

"Right. I'll go first. Watch carefully; you don't want to mess up when it's your turn."

Dana stepped out of the circle as her sister moved to the center. "Wait," Delia said, rushing to her twin. "Hold this. We don't need them for this step." Dana took her sister's wand and watched avidly as she returned to the middle of the ring of dirt.

Delia rolled up her sleeves and focused. This was the charm that would call the spirit of the animal she was to become; she was very excited to learn what it would be, but forced herself to take a deep breath and calm down. She couldn't rush this. Raising her hands to the moon, Delia pronounced the incantation very carefully; even a single mistake and the spell wouldn't work. "_Terra, Aer, Aqua, Incendia. Effero bestia animus._" Delia threw every bit of magical power she had into those words, calling on the four elements to bring forth an animal spirit for her. She threw her head back as the spell wound around her, her words replaying in her mind, echoing in her ears and swirling within the circle. Then, it was over. She put her hands down and looked at her sister, who stared, wide-eyed. "Did it work?"

Dana grinned in disbelief. "That was amazing, Dee. Let me try."

She hurried into the circle and Delia put a hand on her arm. "What animal?"

"You're an owl." Dana couldn't wait to do the charm herself, if Delia's results had been any indication.

Her sister nodded, a satisfied grin spreading across her face. "An owl. I can live with that."

"More than _live_ with it, Dee. You'll be able to fly!"

Delia's smile grew even wider as she backed out of the circle. She thought she might burst with pride. This was one of the hardest transformations there was but she, Delia Silvermoon, was two thirds of the way finished. Most adult wizards couldn't have made it this far.

She watched avidly as her sister rolled up her sleeves and raised her arms to the moon, reciting the incantation. The words came out of Dana's mouth on a cloud of white breath which, instead of dispersing, grew and swirled around her, the pale smoke lifting and tangling in her hair and whipping her robes about her body. The cloud resolved itself into a shape—a dog? No, it was a wolf. The shadowy wolf hung suspended above Dana's head for a moment, and then slowly melted over her, the magical fog disappearing into her skin.

Dana lowered her head and looked at Delia, eyes wide. "Did I do it right? What was the animal?"

"You're a wolf, Day. That was _amazing_."

Dana nodded in satisfaction. "A wolf…not bad. Now all we have to do is destroy the evidence, and then we can go back." She began scuffing out their magic circle, and Delia joined in.

When they finished, Delia told her sister, "The last step is the actual Transfiguration. We won't be advanced enough in the subject until at least the middle of next year."

"I can hardly wait."

"Neither can I. I wonder if I'll have to learn to fly, or if it'll just come naturally?"

"I'm sure you'll get the hang of it one way or the other, Dee. You always do."

*****

December:

Gwen eyed her newest Ravenclaw, Brian Southeby, from across the Great Hall and murmured to Ginny, "Do you want our dorm or theirs?"

"Sorry?" she asked, not having the faintest idea what her friend was talking about.

"Gin, it's Christmas holidays. You and I are the only ones in our dorm, and Brian and Mike Fletcher are the only ones in theirs. Now, if one of us goes to Ravenclaw tonight, and one of them comes to Gryffindor, it'll be a Happy Christmas for all."

"Gwen, you don't mean—"

"Gin, please?" Gwen said, in a tone that was dangerously close to whining. "Brian and I _never_ get to be alone. This is our one chance. All you have to do is make yourself scarce for a night."

"Can't you just go to the Astronomy Tower like normal people?"

"Usually," Gwen said with a sly smile. "But this is a golden opportunity. Come on. You've known Mike your whole life, and you've been snogging him for more than a year. It won't kill you to sleep in the same room as him for one night."

Ginny looked from her friend to the Ravenclaws across the room. She wondered what the boys would think if they knew what she and Gwen were talking about and then wondered if they might not be having a similar conversation. Dammit, why did she always have to blush so obviously? It was the curse of having red hair.

"_Please_?" Gwen asked, her wheedling tone telling Ginny that her friend wasn't going to let up until she got the answer she wanted.

"All right," she said. "I'll even take the Ravenclaw dorm, if you want. But stay off my bed."

"You're the best! Happy Christmas!" Gwen kissed Ginny's cheek and then rushed off and pulled Brian away from Mike. The two of them didn't waste any time leaving the hall.

Ginny couldn't stop blushing. She'd never felt awkward or embarrassed in front of Mike before, but she was making up for it now. He strolled over to her, the familiar smile on his face putting her at ease somewhat. "Could they be any more obvious?"

She laughed. "I guess not. Gwen said they're hardly ever alone, but she's always sneaking off to see him so I don't know what she's complaining about."

"She probably meant that they're never alone with the benefit of a bed and no interruptions." Ginny flushed even more intensely at his mention of beds, and Mike grinned, dropping a kiss on the tip of her nose. "It was nice of you to give them a night together. She'll owe you forever."

"Don't talk like a Slytherin," Ginny admonished, standing on tiptoes to kiss the corner of Mike's mouth.

He looked down at her; his blue eyes glinting with a light she didn't quite recognize. It brought her blush back full-force. Then, the moment was over. Mike laughed and slid his arm around her waist. "Come on," he said. "It's hours till bedtime yet. Let's go do something fun."

*****

Ginny sat on Mike's blue comforter and looked at the game board with joy approaching disbelief. Every property he owned was mortgaged, and he had just landed on a railroad. She owned all four. For the first time ever, Ginny had beaten him at Monopoly.

"You win," he said with a smile.

"Too right I win." She couldn't keep the grin from her face. "And now you owe me a forfeit."

"Do I?"

"You said after that first game that your forfeit would be lots better than a kiss in a dusty classroom. I've been waiting ages to find out what you meant."

Mike leaned across the board until his mouth was a mere whisper from hers. "Then I shouldn't keep you waiting any longer, should I?"

He leaned in and kissed her, lightly at first, but then more deeply. Ginny tumbled backwards, Mike's pillow cushioning her head, and he came down on top of her. The game pieces scattered; deeds, play money, and plastic hotels were swept to the floor, quickly followed by the board. Ginny floated along pleasantly; Mike really was very good at this, and she appreciated his talents immensely. Tangling her fingers in his straight, light brown hair, Ginny sighed with pleasure and contentment. This was _much_ better than a kiss in a dusty classroom, without a doubt.

Mike's mouth grew more insistent against hers, and his hands moved over her body, teasing a groan out of her. He was slightly clumsy, a bit nervous, but more than made up for it with his enthusiasm. When he began slipping open the buttons on her shirt, however, Ginny broke off the kiss and looked up at him in surprise. "What—"

He dropped his head and pressed a kiss to the spot where her neck met her shoulder. "I'm paying my forfeit, Gin." Raising up his head and grinning at her, he said, "A gentleman always honors his debts."

Ginny tried to think, but she couldn't quite manage it. It felt so damn good to be laying on this soft bed, with Mike's warm body on top of her and his mouth and hands making her feel…there was no reason for her not to just seize the moment and enjoy it. Goddess knew that she'd had very little happiness in the past year; she deserved a bit of fun. "Have you done this before?"

Mike nuzzled her cheek with his nose. "A few times."

"A _few_?"

"Okay, once. Over the summer. You?"

"No." She hoped her being a virgin wouldn't scare him off. Some boys were strange about that, she knew from listening to Gwen.

He grinned and gave her a smacking kiss on the mouth. "A first-timer? Excellent. We'll train you up in no time."

"Like you're an expert," she said, tracing her lips over his earlobe.

"Hey, Gin, what's this?" he asked curiously, lifting the clear ring from where it rested on her breastbone.

She cringed inwardly; she'd forgotten all about that stupid thing. "I picked it up in a Muggle junk shop last time I was at Diagon Alley," she said. "The store owner said it's made of glass."

He studied it a moment more and then set it back down on her skin. "The etchings are amazing. It's a wonder how Muggles do it without magic, don't you think?"

Ginny nodded, and wrapped her arms around him again. She was nervous, and figured she might as well be honest about it. "Mike? What if I'm not any good at this?"

"Um…in that case we'll just have to practice until you get it right."

She laughed at that, and he picked up his wand from the nightstand and used it to slide the bedcurtains closed.

*****

Year Two—1999

March:

Ginny sat in the common room, watching Shannon do her DADA homework. Ginny missed having the class; Professor Figg had been her favorite teacher. The ex-auror's gruff exterior camouflaged her kind heart and wicked sense of humor. Ginny swung her feet as her eyes wandered around the room; she spotted a day-old issue of _The Daily Prophet_ sitting on an end table and _Accio_ed it over.

Idly scanning the articles, Ginny stopped on the editorial page when her friend's name caught her eye. "Squib Birth on the Rise?" was the headline, and the article, which Ginny read with dawning anger, discussed an alleged increase in squib births, placing the blame solely on the Muggle and half-Muggle born members of the Wizarding community. "Shannon," Ginny asked, her voice slightly choked, "what the hell is this?"

She threw the paper across the table and Shannon picked it up and scanned the page. "Oh," she said, her face lighting up, "it's my latest column. What do you think?"

"What do I _think_? I can't believe you actually _wrote_ it! Ria and Gwen are part Muggle. What would they say if they saw this trash?"

"Relax, Gin," Shannon said, tossing the paper back onto the table. "The statistics are reliable. Not even Ria could find fault with the logic."

"That's not an excuse," Ginny said, staring at her friend in dismay. "You can't just go _printing_ things like that. It only adds to the prejudice against people of Muggle ancestry."

"It's a _newspaper_," Shannon pointed out. "They're never going to be able to agree with everyone on everything. If I wrote nothing but, 'Oxygen is good,' and 'I like six Galleons better than five Galleons,' then nobody would read my column and I'd get hate mail from helium-breathing, socialist readers."

Ginny wondered if maybe Shannon had lost her mind. "So you wrote it for shock value? Is that what you're saying?"

"I wrote it to get people thinking. In a few decades, we might be facing a population crisis. If the inflammatory tone of my article gets people talking about the problem, then I've accomplished what I set out to do." Ginny tried to wrap her mind around that statement, and Shannon shut her book. "I'm sick of homework. Let's find Gwen and Ria. Maybe they'll be up for sneaking to the kitchens for a midnight snack." She got up and went for the girls' stairs. Ginny sat a moment longer and then followed, unsure what to think of her friend's rationalizations.

*****

June:

Shannon leaned against the dungeon wall, across from the door. The stone walls and floor were damp; she could feel the wetness seeping through the back of her robes. Torches burned in brackets along the wall. Draco leaned nonchalantly against the opposite wall and watched her. "You knew this would happen after you left school."

"I know," she said, fidgeting with her robes. "It's just…is You-Know-Who really in there?"

Draco nodded slowly.

"How do you know for sure?"

He laughed at that. "Shannon, this is my _house_. I know who's here and who's not."

"It's just that—"

"Look, the only way you're going to affect any change is from within the system. The mark is necessary. You have to gain his trust before you can help bring him down."

"And you have one?"

He nodded, but didn't offer to show her.

"Does it hurt?"

"No. You won't feel a thing."

"You're sure?"

"I promise."

Just then, the wooden door creaked open and Blaise poked his head out. "Shannon, he's ready to see you."

She gave Draco a tremulous smile, and then followed Blaise inside. The door shut, and thirty seconds later Shannon's scream of unholy pain echoed off the dungeon walls. Draco grinned. It was done; she was tied to his cause permanently. There was no way she'd be able to go about her business in regular society now that she wore Voldemort's brand. Draco was her only way out.

*****

October:

Dana walked down the main staircase, on her way to Herbology with the rest of the Slytherin sixth years. As she turned to listen to something Portia was saying, the great doors to the castle flew open and five people stumbled in. They looked like they'd been through a war zone; their robes were torn and most were bleeding with varying degrees of severity. She picked out a distinctive red ponytail, the auror's face and hair streaked and blackened with soot and dirt. Dana's first thought was to make sure Ginny was all right. As she started down the stairs, though, she caught sight of something that made her heart stop.

There weren't five aurors, there were six. One was being carried. Two steps closer, and she recognized the sixth—her bookbag went flying as she started down the stairs at a run yelling, "Get Madame Pomfrey!"

A second year Hufflepuff, seeing the Prefect badge glittering on her robes, sprinted off towards the hospital wing.

Reaching the bottom of the staircase, Dana raced across the floor, dropping to her knees where they had laid him down. "Seamus," she whispered, the word choking in her throat. He caked with dirt and bleeding profusely from a wound in his chest. Dana pressed her hands to the hole, hoping to stem the flow of blood, but it was no good. His robes and skin were warm and sticky and wet; his life seeped out onto the floor, onto her.

Someone, she only vaguely registered that it was Ginny, put a hand on her shoulder. "Dana," she swallowed hard, "Dana it's too late. He's lost too much blood. I'm sorry."

Seamus' eyes flickered open and Dana insisted, "No it's not. No, it's not! He's awake. Madame Pomfrey just needs to hurry."

"I knew we'd make it back," Seamus said in a rough voice, "Dana, love, be strong please." He closed his eyes and let out a shuddering breath, then stilled.

"No," Dana whispered, "no, Seamus, please wake up." Harry pulled her off the ground as Madame Pomfrey came running up, but it only took her a moment to confirm that he was dead.

"I must inform the Headmaster," she said in a choked voice.

Dana wrested herself out of Harry's grasp to kneel by Seamus' body, "What happened?" she asked, surprised that she could speak calmly.

Ron drew in a deep breath and explained, "We got a tip that someone on our list was hiding out in one of the caves near the village. We expected resistance, which is why they pulled me to be there." His eyes seemed glued to the motionless figure on the floor. Seamus was dead. Seamus wouldn't ever laugh again, or get trounced in a hand-to-hand bout, or play Chaser in a pickup game of Quidditch.

He almost didn't hear her. "What happened?"

The words felt like they were being wrenched from his soul, "We were ambushed. It's like they were expecting us; we were outnumbered by at least...I'm not sure how we got away." He didn't notice the tensing of Dana's shoulders as the words came tumbling out of his mouth. "They were on us before we got within a hundred feet of the cave. We lost three, Dana. It's a miracle the rest of us made it to the castle."

Dana looked up at the redhead standing next to her. He almost recoiled from the suppressed hatred that shone from her diamond-hard gray eyes. "A name, Weasley. I want a name." Unshed tears glittered in the light from the open doors.

Now Ron did take a step back, the air around Dana was practically crackling with radiating power and he didn't want to be anywhere near her when she let it go. "We don't have one. We barely escaped with our lives; there was no way we could've captured any for questioning." He had no idea why he was telling her this; it was classified information and he was sure it was against the rules, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. The words flowed from his mind and out his mouth before he could censor them.

Ginny, however, knew exactly what was happening. Dana didn't realize it, but she was using her Otherworldly power to pull the answers out of Ron's head. She stepped in before the Slytherin could draw out anything else that Ron wasn't supposed to tell. "Dana, we were set up. There were just too many. If any one of us could've died to save him, we would've."

Dana didn't look up; "Really?" she asked coldly. "How come, then, you don't have a scratch on you, Ginny? These people all look like they've stood up to the worst the Death Eaters can give, and you're just a little bit dirty."

Ginny ignored the fact that Dana had just all but called her a coward; she could see the girl's devastation, and knew the Slytherin would regret her words later. She dropped her hand back on Dana's shoulder and squeezed, sending a small calming charm into the other girl. It wouldn't help much, but it was something to help her get a grip on herself. Ginny knew Dana wouldn't want to cry in front of this crowd of people.

Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey rushed into the entrance hall. The Headmaster took in the scene with a glance and then said, "Poppy, please take Seamus to the hospital wing. From there, we can arrange transport back to the division." He looked old, and sad.

Ginny helped Dana to her feet as Seamus floated away on a stretcher; she was the only one who heard the girl's whispered vow, "I'll find them, Seamus, I promise. I'll find them and they will pay." When she raised her head, Ron thought she looked different. It was a couple of moments before he could pinpoint what had changed. Where he remembered warmth and happiness was a calculating, determined mask. Now, he realized, she looked like a Slytherin. He was unable to suppress the sudden shiver that went up his spine at the thought.

"The rest of you should get medical treatment as well," the Headmaster said. "The hospital wing is fully equipped to—"

Ginny shook her head. She was the ranking officer on this mission; she'd been promoted twice in three months to fill places left empty by aurors who had been killed. The only one in her training class who matched her rise through division ranks was Harry, and he was one step below her. "We have to get back to the division." There was a mole somewhere; there had to be. She couldn't think of any other explanation for the day's fiasco.

Dumbledore said, "But not before your wounds are treated."

"No," Ginny insisted firmly, her tone brusque and unemotional. "Thank you for the offer, but we have to leave." One of her team looked to be in very bad shape, though. He would have to stay behind, even if the rest of them couldn't. "Agent Zalba, floo would only aggravate your shoulder. Have Madame Pomfrey fix you up, and then come back as soon as you're able. Dana, would you show him the way?" Dana would want to stay with Seamus as long as possible; this would give her the chance.

The Slytherin nodded, her eyes dazed but the set of her shoulders determined, and motioned to the Agent to follow her. Dumbledore took note of the fact that Ginny was giving orders in his school, but he didn't comment.

As the aurors turned and walked from the castle Harry said, _Are you all right?_

Ginny sighed, an exhausted, miserable sound. _I'm trying to think what I'm going to say to Seamus's parents._

*****

Draco was sitting as his desk when Blaise walked in, a huge smile on his face. Draco looked up at him for a moment before turning back the papers in front of him. After a minute he snapped, "What do you want?"

Blaise leaned forward eagerly, "You remember Finnigan?"

"Finnigan," Draco mused for a moment before he looked up sharply, eyes wide. "You mean Seamus Finnigan?"

"Yes."

"What about him?"

"We don't have to worry about him anymore," Blaise said. After all of Draco's complaints about the sandy-haired auror—that Finnigan was the only thing standing in between Draco and recruiting Dana Silvermoon—Blaise thought his friend would be pleased. "I arranged an ambush, using Death Eaters from outside the faction. McNair took him out."

Steel gray eyes pinned Blaise into place, "Took him out? What do you mean? Is he captured, injured?" Draco could certainly use Finnigan if he'd been captured, but he needed confirmation from Blaise before making any plans.

Blaise shook his head, "No, McNair was certain he'd killed him. The aurors had taken off for Hogwarts when the Dark Lord's people left."

"What?" Draco roared, "Do you realize what you've just done?"

"I don't understand," Blaise protested, confused. "I thought this was what you wanted."

"You thought wrong," Draco snarled. "Get out!" Blaise didn't wait for him to repeat the order. He bolted from the room.

Draco sat back in his chair, thinking furiously. Damn! There was no way now that they would be able to convince Dana Silvermoon to join them. McNair and Blaise had certainly seen to that. He made a fist and pounded the arm of his chair in frustration. A golden opportunity, completely wasted!

All that could be hoped for now was that Dana wouldn't decide to make a full commitment to Dumbledore's side. Dana Silvermoon as an auror bent on vengeance would make a formidable opponent. He sat back in his chair and brooded for almost an hour before returning to his work. 

*****

Ginny walked purposefully through the halls of the Ministry and stopped in front of one that read, "Department of Magical Games and Sports." She pushed it open and saw a bustling, cheerful office. It was nothing like the tense, serious atmosphere in the auror division. "Excuse me," she asked a passing witch. "Can you tell me where Maria Johnson's desk is?"

"Gin!" Ria called from across the room. "I'm just getting ready to go home. What are you—you're a mess!"

Ginny rubbed her cheek and a streak of black soot came off. "It was a rough day at work."

Her friend picked up her bag and hurried across the room, shepherding Ginny out the door. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Later." If she told Ria about Seamus now, her friend would be in no frame of mind for going along with Ginny's idea. "We have somewhere to be."

Ria jogged after Ginny. "Where are we going?"

"I'm getting a tattoo," she said, "and you're keeping me company. Unless you'd like to have one as well. Solidarity and all that."

"Wait. Hang on." Ria grabbed Ginny's arm and pulled her to a halt. "I might just be a magical sports underling, but even I know that aurors aren't allowed to have any distinguishing marks. You can't have a tattoo; it'll make you easy to identify."

Ginny resumed her walk. "That's the idea. I've only been with the division as a full-fledged auror for six months, but I've already brought in two Dark Wizards on my own, and helped with one more. I'm good at this job, and given time, the Death Eaters will notice. I _want_ to be identifiable. When they're coming at us from all sides, I want them to see some kind of identifying mark and know that it's Agent Jezebel they're up against, and maybe they'll realize that I'm the one who's had two and a half captures her first six months on the job, and maybe they'll think twice about _ambushing_ us and—"

"Ginny, what the hell happened today?" Ria demanded. "Are you all right?"

Ginny took a deep breath to steady her pounding heart. "I'm fine. I'll tell you about it later. Are you coming or not?"

Ria was concerned. "Yeah, I'm coming."

"Good."

Ria tried to make conversation as she jogged after her friend. "I think I'll get a Snitch on my shoulder. I've always wanted one of those. How about you?"

"I haven't decided yet."

*****

November:

Draco woke slowly, feeling very warm and satiated. Alicia Avery lay beside him, her limbs tangled with his and her sooty black hair spread across his pillow. Last night had been fun. He leaned over and blew softly in her ear, and her eyes fluttered open. "Stop that! I was asleep."

He gave her a wicked grin. "But you're not anymore, are you?"

"No."

"Mission accomplished, then."

There was a knock at the door, and Draco gave an exasperated sigh. "Who is it?"

"It's Blaise," his friend called from the hallway, "and Andrea Tocco. It's important."

Draco sighed. "Fine. Come in." Alicia just barely managed to cover herself with the sheets before the two Death Eaters entered the room.

Tocco was a battered mess. "What happened to you?" Draco asked.

"Jezebel," Blaise said. The one word was enough to make Draco curse a blue streak. Ordinarily he'd praise to heaven an auror who could capture four Dark Wizards in seven months—any blow against Voldemort was a blow for him, after all. But three of them had the bad luck to be members of his faction. Draco's numbers were small enough at the moment; he didn't need some Ministry bint depleting the few followers he'd managed to recruit. And always the morning after a capture, the _Prophet_'s headline would trumpet, "Agent Jezebel Strikes Again," or some other stupid catch phrase designed to rally the public and convince them that Death Eaters weren't so scary after all, as long as they had the auror division to protect them.

"Were any lost?" Alicia said urgently.

Tocco nodded. "Two of the Dark Lord's, and one of ours. I got away."

"You're telling me she took three Death Eaters in one night? All by herself? And you're sure it was Agent Jezebel?"

"It's what the others called her. There were four aurors total. But, Draco, you'll never guess what."

"Then don't make me guess," he said sardonically. "Just spit it out."

"She has a _tattoo_."

This made him take notice. "You must be joking."

Tocco shook her head. "A silver sword, on her right hip. She had on low-slung pants and it was right there, plain as anything. If we tell everyone to watch for the tattoo, we'll learn her identity eventually."

"Can we find out anything about her from our mole in the division?" Alicia suggested. "The sooner we stop her, the better."

"Our only spy is in the surveillance department," Blaise said. "They don't have anything to do with field agents. He doesn't know a thing."

Draco listened to them a moment more and then interrupted. "She has to be stopped; that's all there is to it. Blaise, inform everyone, even the ones who are loyal to Voldemort, that Agent Jezebel has a tattoo. Get Tocco to describe it in detail, so everyone will know exactly what to look for. Tell them to keep an eye out in stores and restaurants, at work at the Ministry, anywhere a witch might be. I don't know what she could've been thinking, but she's signed her own death warrant. Oh, and Blaise," he called as his friend turned to leave, "tell them to take her alive. The bitch has gotten five of my people; I want to be the one to end her."

*****

December:

Dana and Delia took advantage of the deserted school, empty because of the Christmas holidays, to complete the last phase of their anamagi transformations. Delia looked through her pages. "The Transfiguration part is last. Day, are you sure you're up to it?" Her voice held no sarcasm, only concern. "This is a really complicated spell, and if it's not done exactly right, you'll be in a world of trouble."

"I'm fine," her sister said dully. "I can do it."

"Because if you can't, you can tell me," Delia said gently. "I know it's been hard for you these past few months, and I know that you're _capable_ of doing it. It's just…you might not be able to right now, because you're sad."

"I'm not _sad_, Dee. I'm _grieving._ There's a difference. See, Natalie MacDonald loaned me this Muggle book about what makes people act the way they do. There are these stages you're supposed to go through when someone dies, if you're a healthy person. First is denial, then anger. After anger comes bargaining, where you ask the gods to give you the person back in exchange for something. Then there's depression, and acceptance."

"And I guess it's too much to hope that you've reached acceptance already?" Delia asked tentatively.

"I'm permanently lodged in anger," Dana snarled. "All I can think about is hunting down the person who did this and…hey, Dee, do you know how to do the killing curse?"

"Of course not!" her twin exclaimed indignantly. "Why would you even _ask_ that? _You're_ the Slytherin. You should know. Or if you don't, I'm sure someone in your house can teach you."

"I'll have to ask around," Dana said. "It should be useful for when I find the person who murdered Seamus."

Delia folded the sheets and stuck them back in her pocket. "That settles it. We're doing this another time. You're freaking me out."

"No, Dee, we're ready to do it now, so let's do it."

"Then quit acting like a Slytherin."

"I _am_ a Slytherin, a fact everyone seems to have forgotten. I'd never ask you to stop acting like a Ravenclaw."

"No," Delia said with a faint smile. "You'd never do that. Listen, Day, if there were anything I could do to make you feel better, to…help you deal with this, you'd tell me, right?"

Dana nodded; her eyes bright with unshed tears. "Day," Delia asked quietly, "have you even cried yet? I asked Tinamiya what happened that afternoon, and she said that you didn't cry. It's important that you let your feelings out…you can't just keep them inside."

"Depression is stage four," Dana said, her voice unusually flat. "I'm only on stage two. I'm not scheduled to be sad for a while yet."

"I know you wouldn't want to cry in front of people," Delia pressed on, "but I'm not people, Day. You don't have to watch yourself around me." She walked over and put her arms around her twin. Dana held herself stiffly for a moment, and then her face crumpled and she broke down and sobbed for the first time in three months.

Once the torrent passed, Dana wiped her eyes and gave her twin a weak smile. "Thanks, Dee. I needed that."

Delia nodded. "I know you did. Shall we do this another time?"

"No," Dana insisted. "Now is fine. I've been studying for this for the past year; I'm ready. Seamus," she choked a bit on the name, but pressed on, "Seamus wouldn't want me to put it off. He'd want me to do the things I would've done even if he hadn't been…"

One crying fit from her sister was all Delia felt she could handle, so she broke in before Dana could set herself off again. "All right. Do you want to go first or should I?"

Dana wiped her nose on the sleeve of her robe. "Let's go together."

The sisters spread apart and faced each other across the room. They focused on the way Transfiguration magic felt, focused on the _animus_ of the animal called to them by the charm a year ago, pushed their magical energy into it, and _pop!_

The anamagus transformation was a success. The owl faced the wolf, and then both sisters laughed. Not being human, it was an incredibly odd mixture of sounds. Another pop, and they were back to normal. Delia was ecstatic. Let's see them call her a mudblood now! She'd done the hardest spell known to Wizardkind. She and Day had proved themselves, without a doubt.

Dana switched back and forth several times, unable to contain her satisfaction. "It's so easy!" she marveled.

"Our Otherworldly power probably helps a lot," Delia observed. "Speaking of that, Day, I've been meaning to talk to you about something. I think it would be a good idea if you and I trained that power, and developed it. It's such a rare thing, we should really take advantage of it."

"I couldn't agree more," Dana said. "Now that this project is done, that'll be our next one." Delia sighed with relief; that had been easy. She'd held up her part of the bargain with Draco. But then her sister continued, and Delia wasn't so sure anymore. "They'll come in handy for when I'm an auror, don't you think?"

Draco wasn't going to like that at _all_, Delia had a feeling. "You're going to be an auror, Day?"

"Of course I am, just like Ginny," Dana replied as though it was obvious. "What better job is there? I'll get to hunt down the bastard who killed Seamus, and they'll _pay_ me for it!"

"Oh," Delia said, not sure what kind of reaction her sister had been hoping for. "Well, that sounds like it suits your anger quite well." Maybe Dana would grow out of it, once she reached stage five.

Dana flipped from wolf to girl once more, and then smiled at her sister. "I really do feel a lot better. Thanks, Dee."

"You know you're welcome," Delia said, transforming a few times herself. Then her eyes lit up. "Day, let's go outside. I want to learn to fly."

Together, the sisters ran from the room.

*****

Year Three—2000

September:

Ginny and Harry sat in the circular briefing room, looking at the detailed three dimensional model that floated in the center. Ron, Andrew, and two other aurors from the Department of Strategic Planning paced around it, using their wands to point out the field agents' assigned positions. "Surveillance has obtained enough evidence that the Notts are involved in dark activities—they believe at least three family members have Dark Marks, maybe even more. They're considered highly dangerous, and won't hesitate to take hostages."

Ron took over for the more senior auror. "The strategic planning team will be stationed here," he pointed out a point of blue light an acceptable distance from the house, "giving orders through your transmitter charms. Everyone make sure to get one before we go in. The Department of Protective Spells and Charms has brewed a new batch of the Camouflage potion as well; you all are due for another dose. They'll be in here just as soon as we're done."

Andrew drew his wand. "Teams one and two will take the rear of the house." Two points of orange light flared at the back of the model. "Team three will take the front. Surveillance said that there's a secret passage that starts in their cellar and comes out here," a fourth light brightened, and then dimmed, "near the river. Team four will stand guard there, in case the Notts use it to get away. As always, take them alive. You never know what kind of information they'll turn over, if it means a shorter term in Azkaban."

Briefing over, the surveillance team left for their offices to prepare for the raid. Wizards and Witches from the Protective Spells department came in, hauling two large cauldrons on wheeled carts. "Step right up," a plump wizard said cheerfully. "Everyone gets a dose."

Ginny stood in line with Harry, behind Mundungus Fletcher. They chatted idly, anything to avoid thinking about the approaching raid. Ginny couldn't understand Harry, or any of the other aurors. They actually looked forward to these things; there was a collective hush of anticipation and excitement before going out and hunting down Dark Wizards. Ginny only ever felt sick. Her stomach twisted in knots and she felt a cold fist of fear in her chest; she was good at this job, one of the best, but she hated it.

When she got up to the front of the line, Ginny held her nose and drained the dipper offered to her by the wizard. The Camouflage potion was one of the department's greatest inventions. It disguised the drinker, rather like Polyjuice. Whereas Polyjuice made the subject look like someone else, though, the Camouflage potion kept aurors from looking like anyone. Their faces were completely unmemorable; no one who managed to glimpse one could recall it after. Ginny was grateful for the potion; it kept her family safe from retaliatory attacks. She always made sure to use a bit of her silver magic, though, to keep her tattoo uncovered. She might not want Dark Wizards to know that she was Ginny Weasley, but she wanted very much for them to realize that she was Agent Jezebel. She was building up quite a reputation.

Andrew and Ron walked among the teams of field agents, casting transmitter charms on their ears. "You all have your apparition coordinates?" Ron asked the room in general. The aurors nodded. Ginny thought she might throw up.

Mundungus, the most senior auror on the mission, gave the signal. As a whole, the roomful of people disapperated.

*****

Ginny ran and dodged through the flying curses. She looked frantically through the smoke and haze, nearly unable to distinguish auror from Death Eater. Once again, it was as though they had been expected. The mole still hadn't been found. The four teams had apparated to find themselves outnumbered, and more Dark Wizards poured from the house. Through her transmitter charms, she could hear Andrew frantically calling out orders, and her brother yelling for reinforcements.

A knot of Death Eaters surrounded two aurors from her team; they fought frantically, but were beginning to cave under the constant onslaught of hexes and curses that flew through the air, mingling with the screams and shouts of those who had fallen. Ginny clenched her teeth, gripped her wand, and charged at them, firing three stunners before anyone noticed her coming. All three found their mark, and the Death Eaters fell. Seeing that the odds had evened out somewhat, the aurors rallied, firing off stunners of their own.

"It's Jezebel!" one of the Death Eaters cried, spotting Ginny's tattoo. She threw down her wand and held up her hands in surrender. Ginny's heart pounded; her nose stung with the acrid tang of sweat and blood. One by one, the other Death Eaters in the circle threw down their wands. Ginny clutched hers so tightly it began to slip against her damp palm, but she forced her voice to remain steady as she ordered, "Transport them."

Her fellow aurors drew their incarceration Portkeys, specially designed to take someone directly to a holding cell at the division. As they pressed the small metal disks against the Death Eaters' skin, Ginny picked their wands up off the ground and snapped them in two.

A loud popping sound sounded through the haze, and Ginny turned to see that five new auror squads had just arrived. Her brother had yelled himself hoarse, but had succeeded. And not a moment too soon. The fresh agents rushed into the fray, firing curses and hexes right and left. Ginny rallied and rejoined the fight, gaining the surrender of two more Dark Wizards before the rest, noticing their new opponents, disapparated. The conflict was over.

Gradually, the deafening noise faded. Screams quieted to moans. As the smoke began to clear, Ginny found herself standing in the middle of a field of bodies. The area swarmed with aurors, some leading away prisoners, others _ennervating_ their fallen comrades. She joined in, once again tamping down nausea. It was over; there was nothing to be afraid of anymore. They had won the day.

She nearly tripped over a large man, half hidden in a tangle of underbrush and grass. "_Ennervate_." He didn't move. Ginny flipped him over and tried again. Still nothing. Ginny sank to the ground beside his body, too numb to really react.

From a few yards away, Harry spotted her tattoo and walked over. "Andrew has a preliminary count. We captured twenty, and lost ten."

She raised her eyes to his, her sight giving her no trouble seeing Harry's face through the Camouflage spell. "Make it eleven. I just found Mundungus."

*****

Ginny knocked softly on the half-closed door to the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department. "Come in," Mike's cheerful voice sang out. "Gin! Hi! I'm just on my way out; I hope it's not anything important. I…have you been to a bonfire? You smell like smoke."

Ginny shook her head. "There was a raid today."

He swung on his cloak and picked up his briefcase. "Then let me take you out to dinner so you can forget all about it." He leaned down and gave her a long kiss on the mouth, and then pulled back, wrinkling his nose. "We can even stop by my place before, so you can shower."

"Mike," Ginny said softly, "you'd better sit down. I have to tell you something."

"Can't it wait until after dinner?"

"No, it can't."

His grin faded ever so slightly. "You're not pregnant, are you?"

"Nothing like that. Just, you'd better sit down."

He sat, and then looked up at her expectantly. Ginny bit her lip. She'd given this speech nearly ten times in the past two years but it was different when the face looking back at her was Mike's. She felt herself at a loss, but pressed ahead. "There was a big raid today. We'd planned it for months, down to the last detail. Mike…we were ambushed. They were ready for us. We called in reinforcements and they helped before we could be completely overwhelmed, but there were several casualties."

"Mundungus?" he asked quietly, seeing where she was going. Ginny nodded. He sucked in a deep breath and asked, his voice laden with concern and something she couldn't quite identify, "Is he badly hurt? Did they send him to St. Mungo's? I should get there right away." He started to rise, but Ginny put her hand on his shoulder and stopped him. He read the truth in her face. "Oh no." His voice was hoarse as he sank back into the chair. "Gods…Gin, are you sure it was him? It could've been—"

"I'm sure." She sat on the arm of the chair and held him close. "I'm so sorry, Mike."

He leaned into her, but his sadness was too deep to cry. He felt numb. "I've hated him for so long," Mike murmured, sounding lost. "It's what he wanted, though. To go like this."

"He's finally with your mum," Ginny murmured, not knowing what to say. "He's happy, Mike, wherever he is."

"And that's all he cared about. He never gave a thought to me, and whether or not _I'd_ be happy. Selfish bastard." His words were not said with anger, though, but with a vacant sort of anguish. Ginny didn't respond. It wasn't fair to speak ill of the dead.

Mike drew a shaky breath, and then asked, "How many did you lose today?"

"All told, twelve. Five dead, seven captured."

"I guess this means another promotion for you."

Again, Ginny didn't respond. Mike was trying to bait her, she thought, but she wouldn't play along. Misery loved company, but she wouldn't be dragged down with him. She was miserable enough on her own.

Mike pulled back and looked up at her. "Gin, I have to ask you something. I've thought about it before, but I just…I have to ask. Why don't you quit?"

"Sorry?"

"Being an auror. You hate it; I can tell. You're a good witch, you're smart, and you would've been Head Girl if you hadn't gone off to training a year early. You could get a job in any other department. My father…I don't want the same thing happening to you."

"It won't, Mike," she said, looking in his eyes and pressing home her sincerity. "Nothing is going to happen to me. I'm not going to get hurt."

"You never know that."

"I do."

"You _can't_! I've put up with never knowing if you're coming back in one piece, and I've dealt with the change in you since you started working for the aurors, but I just can't not say anything now. My father is dead. My mother is dead. Both of them, I lost to Death Eaters. Gin…you're my best friend. What if something happens to you? This job is dangerous. You're dying to get out. Why don't you?"

Ginny wanted more than anything to quit, to tell Mike that he wouldn't have to worry anymore, that she would get a nice, safe job in the sports department with Ria and live out the rest of her life, never putting herself at risk again. "I'm staying with the Division."

He gently disentangled himself from her arms and stood. "Then I'm sorry, Gin, but I just can't do this anymore."

"You can't?"

"It's not because you're an auror; I'd never say a word if it was a career that you found fulfilling and made you happy. You know I wouldn't. I want you to be happy. And you're not, Gin, but you won't leave. I…you'll always be my friend, nothing will change that. It's just," he motioned vaguely to the space between them. "I can't do_ this_ anymore. I can't. Not when you insist on putting yourself at risk for something that you're not even sure you believe."

Ginny nodded slowly. "All right, if that's what you want."

Mike didn't know what reaction he'd been expecting, but that certainly wasn't it. She didn't cry, or give in, or even look particularly upset. There was only concern on her face, and in her voice. She asked, "Do you want me to go home with you? We can make dinner; you shouldn't be alone tonight. I'll sleep on the sofa."

He looked at her for a long moment; he'd be terribly lonely without Ginny in his life. It was true what he'd said—she was his best friend. It was tremendously comforting to know that he wouldn't lose her just because they weren't sleeping together anymore. "Yeah, that sounds good."

Ginny nodded and rose from the chair. He picked up his briefcase again and, not touching, they left the building together.

*****

November:

Ginny landed in a heap in the center of Mórrígan's training camp. She pulled herself to her feet and brushed the dirt off of her clothes; as usual, the area was a hive of activity. Everyone ran back and forth, looking busy and purposeful. She had been through the routine often enough by now; she walked to the goddess's pavilion and retrieved her practice sword, then went to a dueling ring that Mórrígan had set aside especially for Ginny's practice.

The goddess was already there, waiting for her. Ginny vaulted over the fence, the cumbersome sword making the move clumsier than it otherwise would've been. Mórrígan wasted no time. She saluted Ginny with her own sword, and then attacked.

The blows rained down with bone-crushing force. Ginny gritted her teeth and concentrated on basic survival. Dueling with Mórrígan left no allowance for finesse. It was brutal. After three years, Ginny could best most of the people in the camp, but she had never even come close to beating the goddess.

Mórrígan pushed her back, until Ginny's was pressed against a fence post. Landing a blow just at the end of Mórrígan's downward stroke, Ginny managed to knock her sword out of the way long enough to duck another swing and scoot around behind the goddess, who whirled around and continued raining deadly blows. The point of the Mórrígan's sword slipped down Ginny's breastbone and curved around her rib, leaving a trail of white-hot pain in its wake. She sucked in a breath, but refused to show any kind of weakness. The goddess would eat her alive for it. If only her opponent wasn't so tall_, she might stand a chance every now and then._

Still there was no denying the goddess's skill. Nearly three years had gone by since the day Ginny had received her first lesson, and she had yet to touch her opponent. Her blade had not connected with divine skin even once. Ginny knew she was improving, though. In the beginning, she could barely stay on her feet for more than a few seconds before Mórrígan disarmed her. Now, she could last up to twenty minutes, if it was a very good day. The sword's weight no longer seemed prohibitive; she could even move with a measure of grace and skill when up against an Otherworldly denizen. But Mórrígan always bested her thoroughly.

Her side bleeding in earnest, Ginny started to tire. She felt dizzy from the heat and blood loss, and her steps began to falter. The goddess saw her opening, and pressed in for the final stroke. A flick of her wrist, and Ginny's sword went flying. Mórrígan rested her blade on the young woman's shoulder, next to her neck. Ginny felt the razor-sharp point against her skin, felt it slide and cut, just a little. Only enough to punish for losing yet another match. The silver blood flowed, hot and wet, from the cut on her neck, down the front of her shirt to mingle with the blood from her side. It glistened in the sunlight.

"Three years, and you have yet to touch_ me," the goddess said with scorn. "What are you going to do when your life depends on your skills, Virginia? I could have killed you thousands of times over. Don't imagine for a moment that your enemies will be so benevolent."_

She'd lost too much blood. Ginny dropped to her knees and fought to stay conscious. The goddess said scornfully, "Weakling." To Mórrígan, it was the very worst of insults.

A flick of the goddess's hand, and a woman ran up with a container of salve to treat Ginny's cuts. Just a few drops, and the wounds vanished as though they had never been. The Otherworldly doctor's eyes were sympathetic, although she dared not express any admiration for Ginny's skills in her queen's hearing. In truth, the Pendragon lasted longer against the goddess than any other in the camp ever had. But still, Mórrígan pressed Ginny to improve, and punished her for even the most minor of perceived failures.

Ginny slowly stood and walked over to retrieve her sword. Her shirt was quickly stiffening with dried blood, and there was a tremendous hole from her chest to her waist, where Mórrígan's sword had sliced. The shirttail hung by a few threads, barely attached in the front.

Walking back over to where the goddess waited, Ginny said, "There was another sacrifice."

"When?" Mórrígan demanded, her expression suddenly tense.

"Three nights ago. My division was called in for cleanup, in case the magic was toxic."

"And was it?"

Ginny retrieved her scabbard from the ground and slid her blade home. "You know it was. It was the same thing as all the other times. Three crows and a person, eviscerated and hung from a yew tree. The grass was still burned, there was still a bloody circle, and the runes were the same. It's a pattern sacrifice. What does it mean?"

"Next time you will have to actually try to beat me," Mórrígan said, handing her sword, stained with Ginny's shimmering blood, off to a retainer to be cleaned. "None of these filthy, half-hearted attempts."

"I've bled quarts all over the ground, trying to beat you. You think I'm not doing my best?"

"You're not. You can lie to yourself, Virginia, but you can not lie to me."

"What to these sacrifices mean_?" Ginny repeated. "Because I don't know. You're the only one who can tell me."_

"What it means," the goddess said, taking her sword back and sliding it into the sheath at her waist, "is that someone in your world is meddling with things beyond his control, and someday it will consume him. If you don't want your people to meet the same fate, you will stop fighting what's inside of you. It also means," she turned to leave the practice area, "that my people can expect another attack tonight."

* * *

A/N Part 2: Danette gets co-author credit for Seamus's death scene and the Draco/Blaise scene that comes after.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed since my last update!

Calypso; tigger; nancyaw; leprechaun babe; Zandith Owens; Chupacabra; Ayla Pascal; The Mirror of Erised; Athena; Annchen [Lots of people have asked me that question. In the HP universe, magical people live much longer than Muggles. For example, Dumbledore is 150 years old. I decided that, because of wizards' much longer life spans, it's not outside the realm of possibility that magical girls wouldn't reach menarche (the age of their first period) until age 16-19. As such, it's not weird that Ginny hasn't seen any of her blood before. She's right on schedule.]; a star beneath the stairs; Zeigod Lizski; MegumiFuu; jake; Angel LeFleur; and everyone who reviewed via email and on the mailing list. You all are my heroes.

Hey, you! Has anyone ever told you you'd make a great muse? Join the HP Pendragon yahoo group! Just point your browser to groups.yahoo.com/group/HPPendragon. We have outtakes, cookies, writing contests, fanart, a group of fun, funny, wonderful people, _and_ they get to read the chapters several days (or, in the case of the epilogue, several _weeks_) before anyone else. I'd love to see you there!

Drop me a note anytime at irina@schnoogle.com. I love getting email, and I always write back.

The chapter has now ended.


	13. Epilogue Part Two

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Title: The Rebirth – Epilogue Part 2

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Author name: Irina   
**Author email:** irina@schnoogle.com

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Category: drama, romance  
**Keywords: **Ginny, destiny, angst, romance, drama  
**Spoilers: **All four books  
**Rating:** R

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Summary: So why _did_ Voldemort try to kill Harry? An ancient power has reawakened and the answers to all the mysteries lie with Ginny Weasley.

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Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

A/N: Thanks to Danette and DRI, my wonderful beta readers. They're very cool. Thanks as well to my muses at the HP Pendragon yahoo group. I'd love to see you there. Just point your browser to groups.yahoo.com/group/HPPendragon. Thanks for reading!

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Epilogue Part Two

Year four—2001

August:

Ginny sat at the long wooden table in the division's conference room. The piece of furniture was chipped and battered, yet one more example of their lack of funds. Fudge, on instructions from Voldemort, kept cutting the aurors' budget; the less money the division had, the less effective they were. Public sentiment was beginning to turn against the aurors and Ginny knew that someday a total disbanding of the division was not outside the realm of possibility. She watched the other team leaders as they flipped through their papers; Mundungus's death had paved the way for yet another promotion—Ginny was now in charge of a team of fifteen field agents. Well, in theory she was in charge of fifteen. In reality she had nine. No, eight. Agent Leo had died that morning in St. Mungo's.

Ginny opened her folder and scanned the list of names. A few of them were vaguely familiar from her days at Hogwarts. Near the bottom of the page, Ginny spotted someone who caught her attention. _Dana Silvermoon, Agent Nimue_. Nimue! And she thought the higher-ups had no sense of humor. It was fate. It had to be.

"Now," Catherine Connor, the no-nonsense division head and the only other woman in the room began, "I've divided the new recruits between the team leaders. There are nowhere near enough to go around, but we'll make do."

Ginny ran her finger down the list once more. Dana had been put with Agent Osiris. Ginny, being the most understaffed, had been given five recruits. Osiris had been assigned only one. She caught his eye and said, "I want to make a trade. I'll give you four of my new agents for your one." Ginny hadn't forgotten that Dana had Otherworldly power; she wanted to keep the Slytherin close.

"Four?" Osiris asked incredulously. "That would put me at an even fifteen!"

"Out of the question," Catherine broke in. "Jezebel, your team is the smallest in the department. You need all the recruits you can get."

"Jezebel's as good as any five of us," Osiris protested. "If she only gets one recruit, it'll still be the same as if she has fourteen." He desperately wanted to have a full roster. It would make everything much easier.

"He has a point," Ginny piped up. Her five new agents would come in handy, it was true, but she wanted Dana Silvermoon more.

Catherine sighed. "It doesn't matter where the recruits go, as long as they're here. I leave you two to sort it out."

Osiris grinned and Ginny sent a half-hearted smile back. She would have to keep a very close eye on her newest agent. She wondered if Dana knew yet that the things she could do were marks of the Otherworld.

*****

Dana tore open her envelope. The sheet inside was orange. She was relieved; she'd been worried that they'd put her in planning or worse, the potions department where she'd have no chance to track down Seamus's killer. The evaluation told her she'd be reporting to Agent Osiris. Dana couldn't wait to start; she walked purposefully through the hallways until she found the agent's office and then knocked. "Come in!"

Dana pushed the door open and saw her new boss; he was a short man with thick, dark hair. "Agent Nimue reporting for duty, sir."

He smiled. "So _you're_ agent Nimue. Eager to start, are you?"

Dana glanced around his spotless office. "Is there anything you need me to do, sir?"

"Not until you've gone through your specialization training, no. At any rate, you're not on my team anymore."

She was suddenly nervous. Had the division decided not to take her? "I'm not?"

"No," he said, sitting behind his desk. "You've been transferred to Jezebel."

A wild elation streaked through Dana. "Agent Jezebel? Really? _The_ agent Jezebel?"

Osiris laughed. "The very one. She especially requested you. One bit of advice, though. Don't get starstruck when you're actually talking to her."

"But she's a _legend_!"

"And for goddess's sake, don't say that! She'll take your head off."

Dana's face creased in concern and Osiris shook his head, amused. "Not literally, Nimue. I'm teasing. All the same, don't mention her notoriety. It's a rather touchy subject with her."

Dana nodded. "Can you point me toward her office?"

"Out the door, to the right."

"Thank you, sir."

Osiris stood and moved across the room to shake her hand. "Welcome to the division."

Dana followed his directions and found the door marked Agent Jezebel with little trouble. Even if the office hadn't been labeled, Dana would've known whose it was. The wards were airtight. Jezebel was obviously someone who zealously guarded her true identity. If the strength of her protective spells was any indication, she was also as paranoid as Professor Moody had been. Dana took a deep breath to steady her nerves and then knocked.

"_What?_" a loud, very annoyed voice called from inside. "I'm bus—" _Crash_! "Oh shit!"

Dana pushed the door open and got her first look at her new boss. Agent Jezebel stood on a chair, back to the door, facing a tall bookshelf. She held a book in one hand and several volumes were on the floor. "Well?" she said, not turning around. "Are you going to make yourself useful or not?"

Dana scrambled across the room and hurried to pick up the mess on the floor. "Are you," she said, handing the books up, "are you really Agent Jezebel?"

"Yes," the woman sighed, shelving the volumes as Dana handed them to her. "Unfortunately, the clumsiness accompanies the name. Who are you?" Ginny didn't recognize her visitor's voice, but if she made it through the wards then she'd come for friendly reasons.

"Agent Nimue," Dana said, handing up a particularly thick hardcover.

Jezebel abruptly let go. The book landed on Dana's foot. She sucked in a pained breath.

"Sorry!" the auror exclaimed, jumping down from her chair and turning to face Dana. "Wow, you've gotten tall. How have you been?"

Dana stared. "_Ginny_?"

Ginny bent down and retrieved the hardcover, laying it sideways on the shelf. "I'm sorry for being so rude; it's been the week from hell."

Dana's mouth opened and closed a few times before she managed to squeeze out, "That's okay."

"I take it you've gotten your new assignment, then?" Ginny walked around behind her desk and began sorting through the mountains of papers. Her office was full of clutter, completely unlike Osiris's.

"Yes ma'am, Agent Jezebel," Dana replied dutifully.

"Ginny will be fine, Dana. It's only in the field that we really have to use the code names."

There was a knock at the door, and Harry stuck his head in. "Hey, Gin? Hi, Dana. What are you doing here?"

"I'm on Ginny's auror team," Dana explained proudly.

Harry smiled. "Welcome aboard. Don't let her work you too hard. She's a regular slave driver, I hear. Gin, Ron wants to know if you can ring Hermione tonight. She's having some kind of wedding-related meltdown."

Ginny never stopped flipping through her papers. "Do I have to?"

"This is what witnesses do," he pointed out. "I'm handling everything from the Ron end, and you're responsible for the Hermione end. Don't look at me like that; if you didn't want the job, you shouldn't have said yes."

Ginny sighed. "What's the problem now?"

"Something about linens. The tablecloths for the reception came this afternoon and they're aqua instead of aquamarine."

"What's the difference?"

He shrugged. "I'm sure Hermione will tell you all about it."

Ginny said to her newest team member, "Dana, never _ever_ agree to be the maid of honor for a compulsive perfectionist."

Harry laughed at that. "I'll tell him you'll ring her, then?"

"Sure." With a triumphant look, she unearthed a yellow sheet. "Found it! I'll just give this to Catherine and then I'll go home and tell Hermione that aqua and aquamarine are equally vile colors so it doesn't matter about the tablecloths."

"Fantastic," Harry said. "I'll see you later, then."

When he was gone Dana asked, "So are Ron and Hermione finally getting married?"

Ginny nodded. "On December twenty fifth. Hermione figured that he'd be less likely to forget their anniversary if it were on Christmas. The whole thing is a logistical nightmare; everything has to be just so and her mum keeps insisting on these terrible colors that Hermione doesn't want. But it'll be sorted out eventually, I hope. And if it's not, at least it'll all be over in four months."

Dana gave Ginny's desk a skeptical look. "Do you want me to file anything for you? I can get all this stuff organized, if you like."

"You're that eager to start? All right then, I leave you to it." Ginny wasn't a fool; if Dana wanted to organize her mess of an office, she wasn't about to say no. "If you'll excuse me, I have to turn this in and then go talk Hermione out of her linen-related panic."

Dana grinned. She'd always liked Ginny, and working with her was going to be an adventure. Especially considering that she was agent Jezebel. _The_ agent Jezebel!

*****

"Hermione?" Ginny called, knocking on the door to Hermione's parents' house. There was no answer. Ginny ran the bell a few times, and then knocked again. Finally the door cracked open and her friend's tear-stained face peaked out.

"Gin?"

Ginny asked in what she hoped was a soothing voice, "Are you going to let me in? I heard about the tablecloths."

Hermione opened the door a bit further and Ginny slid inside. "It's not just the tablecloths. It's everything. This is turning out all wrong. My mum is making all the decisions and I don't want to tell her no because my parents are paying for it, after all. I just don't know what to do. Maybe Ron and I should elope."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," Ginny told her helpfully. It had been the wrong thing to say.

"We _can't_ elope!" Hermione cried, again very close to tears. "What would your mum and dad say? And my parents? It would kill them!"

"Okay," Ginny said. "Take a deep breath. We'll work everything out. It's all going to be fine. You'll have a lovely wedding, and it'll be the most beautiful day of your life. I promise."

The bride-to-be looked miserable. "What about my mum?"

"Are you a Gryffindor or not?" Ginny chirped, feigning a cheerfulness she did not feel. "You can talk to your own mum. Tell her that it's not her wedding, it's yours and that means that your decisions are final."

"She won't listen. I'm so tired from exams and graduation, and then I come home to _this_ and—"

"Have you made any decisions that you're happy about?" Ginny asked. Maybe if Hermione focused on things that _were_ going her way she wouldn't be as distracted by things like the shade of the tablecloths.

"Actually, yes. Look at this," Hermione sniffed, leading Ginny into what looked like the Doctors' study. There was a thick hardbound book on the table, opened to a page marked _Egeo Memoria_.

"Without memory?" Ginny translated.

Hermione nodded, and began to look a little more like herself as she explained, "It's to keep the Muggle guests from remembering any magic that might happen. With the twins around, we'll need it."

"What is it?"

As Hermione began to explain, Ginny peered over her shoulder. "It's a combination of a potion and _obliviate_." At the mention of memory charms, Ginny frowned slightly. Hermione didn't notice; she was deep into her explanation. "It's used when the memory that needs modification is rather large in size, and will work perfectly in mixed company, since it's only the Muggles who will need the spell."

"How does it work?"

"First we brew a potion made of rice wine and magical Ginkgo leaves. The magic version of the plant deteriorates memory, as opposed to the Muggle species, which improves it. This stuff will have to be ordered from China."

"We'll work it out," Ginny said supportively. "We have nearly four months, after all."

"While the potion is stirring, someone has to perform an _obliviate_ charm over the cauldron." Hermione pointed to a moving illustration; the wizard moved his wand above the bubbling liquid in a series of figure eights. "The wand pattern will render wizards and witches immune to the spell. Then, we mix the potion in with the drinks and serve. Problem solved."

"So it doesn't affect magical people at all?" Ginny asked.

"It _is_ made of rice wine," Hermione pointed out. "It would probably make them tipsy, but their memories would be fine."

"Brilliant," Ginny declared. "I'll start learning that wand motion straight away."

Hermione blinked in surprise. "You?"

"You didn't think I was going to let _you_ do it, did you?" Ginny asked, amused. "You're the _bride_! You're supposed to delegate." At her friend's dubious look Ginny reassured, "I'm not half bad at potions, really. I'm lots better than Ron anyway, and there are only two ingredients. You won't have to worry about a thing."

Hermione's eyes lit up. "I picked out the bridesmaids' dresses today! Do you want to see?" Ginny nodded, and Hermione fished a bridal magazine out from under a pile of thick spellbooks.

Flipping to the dog-eared page, Ginny looked down at the moving photograph of a dark-haired girl frolicking in a park and wearing the frilliest, poofiest, yellowest dress on the planet. Ginny looked terrible in yellow. "It's beautiful," she said, pasting a grin on her face. With aqua tablecloths? she thought. Hermione had always been more interested in books than in fashion, it was true, but still! Oh well. It was her special day, and if she wanted Ginny to wear bright yellow then that's exactly what Ginny would do.

"I thought they would be cheerful. My mum said I could have free reign on what to choose for the bridal party."

"Will Ron and the groomsmen have yellow waistcoats then?" That would be something to see.

"No," Hermione replied, pulling a face. "Ron has put his foot down and insisted on black. It's classy in a Cary Grant sort of way, so I didn't fight with him on it."

Oh, how wretchedly unfair, that Harry would get to look suave and smooth while she would have to dress as a yellow puffball. This wedding was going to be a miserable affair. "I'm sure it'll be lovely. Now why don't we take a look at those tablecloths? We can ring the company and straighten everything out. And then you can sit your mum down and have a talk. I'll stay for moral support."

Hermione grinned; very glad she'd asked Ginny to be her maid of honor. There was just something about her future sister-in-law; she gave off an aura of capability. Ginny could handle any crisis without getting a hair out of place.

*****

October:

Delia waited outside the dungeon room, tapping her foot nervously on the stone floor and fidgeting with the crescent-shaped charm around her neck. Today was the first test of the loyalty she had sworn to Draco four years ago. He watched her as he leaned against the wall. She had no choice but to go through with it. Just a few more moments, and then it would be over.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

She swallowed hard. "I'm fine."

"Is there anything I can get you? Something to drink, to take the edge off?"

"I said I'm fine," Delia snapped, wishing he'd stop talking. She wanted it to be over, wanted for it to be tomorrow, or even an hour from now, so that it would be a memory instead of a dark event looming in the near future, rushing straight towards her.

The door creaked open and Blaise poked his head out. "He's ready to see you, Delia."

She nodded and took a step towards the door. "Do you want me to come in with you?" Draco asked.

She gave him a scathing look. Delia didn't want to be coddled. It would only make this harder than it was already. She turned her back to him and followed Blaise into the dungeon. The air inside the dungeon dripped with sinister shadows and the acrid smell of burnt flesh. The senior Death Eaters faced her in a semi-circle, their harsh, metallic masks rendering them faceless. In the center of the circle stood the Dark Lord, tall and thin. His red, snake-like eyes fixed on her. The voice that came out of his slit of a mouth reminded Delia of fingernails on a blackboard. "Kneel, daughter."

Delia dropped to her knees just inside the circle of bodies. She felt very small and young and afraid, and clenched her hands in fists so that the Dark Lord wouldn't notice their shaking. All eyes were trained on her. Her mouth opened and, of its own volition, recited the words he waited to hear. "I offer myself to you, my Lord Voldemort." Ordinarily this would be a binding agreement, but her insincerity rendered it ineffective. Promises had to be offered freely. There would be no contractual magic because she was unwilling. But the Dark Lord didn't know that.

"I accept your pledge, daughter," he told her. "You are worthy of my mark."

Delia's heart beat very fast and without looking up, she offered him her left arm. Voldemort rolled up the sleeve of her black robe and then pressed his palm to the tender skin of her forearm.

Delia screamed.

*****

Dana was browsing through the curses and hexes section of Flourish and Blotts when a searing pain burned up her left arm, strong enough to make her cry out. She stumbled and grabbed onto a nearby display to keep from falling. Books tumbled to the floor and an employee rushed over to see that she was all right.

"I'm fine," she insisted. "No, I'm sure I don't need to go to St. Mungo's." The young man was a bit overenthusiastic. "It's just hot in here," she said. "I felt faint for a moment. I'll just step outside. Of course I'm all right to apparate home."

Dana extricated herself from the bookseller's insistent concern and stumbled out the door. She had a terrible hunch. Every gut instinct she had told her that her twin had done something very, very stupid.

*****

When it was over, Delia went straight to Dana's flat. Her twin had been waiting for her. She hadn't even gotten in the door before Dana was on her. "Dee, what the _hell_ happened today?"

"How did you know?"

"My arm burned," Dana hissed, walking across the foyer until she was nearly toe-to-toe with her twin. "Twin connection and all that. What did you do?"

Delia slowly rolled up her sleeve. The Dark Mark was imprinted on her forearm. Dana sucked in a breath and then looked at her sister in horror. "Why?"

"Draco is going to find out who our birth parents were," Delia said. It wouldn't be wise to prevaricate with Dana when she was in this mood. "We made a bargain. This is my end of it."

"Why does he want you as a Death Eater?" Dana's tone was carefully, dangerously controlled.

"I can't talk about that part."

"God dammit, Dee! Did you stop to think? There are _consequences_! You've just pledged yourself to… Do you have any idea what kind of person he is?"

"It's worth it," Delia said, her eyes bright and feverish. "No price is too high for what he was offering."

"There's nothing he can offer that's worth your soul."

Delia laughed at that. "Aren't you being a little overly dramatic?"

Dana looked from her sister's face to the mark and then back. "Cover it up," she snarled. "What are you doing here?"

Delia hesitated a moment, and then her words came out in a rush. "I came to ask if you'd come with me."

Dana's mouth dropped open in shock. "You mean become a _Death Eater_? You have the gall to stand in my home and ask me to—"

"Please, Day," Delia interrupted. "Our parents are what I want, but there has to be something you want too. Take what he can give. Think of all we can accomplish together."

"There's nothing I want that he can give me. Are you listening, Dee? There's _nothing_—"

Delia raised her voice above her sister's shouts. "What about Seamus's killer?"

Dana froze at that, and went very pale. "What do you know about Seamus's killer?"

"I don't know anything, but he does. I heard from someone that Draco was furious to learn that Seamus had been killed. He'd let you take whatever revenge you wanted. Please, Day, think about it. I love you. You're my only real family in the world. I don't want to do this without you."

Dana felt light-headed. "Did Malfoy send you to tell me all this?"

"I came on my own," Delia insisted. "This is me talking. Not anyone else."

"You're saying that if I got a Dark Mark burned on my arm and pledged myself to You-Know-Who—"

"No. The contract with the Dark Lord wouldn't be binding. You'll be just as allied against him as if you'd become an auror."

Dana sank into a chair. "So you're telling me that if I go with you and pledge myself to Malfoy then get a Dark Mark burnt on my arm, I can still work against You-Know-Who and get revenge for Seamus?" Delia nodded hopefully, and Dana's expression hardened into a Slytherin mask of scorn. "You're forgetting one salient point, Dee. When it's all over, when You-Know-Who and Seamus's killer are gone, where will I be?"

Delia gave her a blank look.

"I'll tell you where I'll be," Dana said, her voice rising on every word until she was shouting. "In debt to Draco fucking Malfoy with a fucking Dark Mark on my arm! Are you _insane_?"

Delia sighed. "I rather thought you'd look at it that way."

"You have to go," Dana said, jumping to her feet and moving toward her twin. For a brief moment Delia thought Dana meant to remove her by force, but she didn't lay a hand on her. "You have to go. I'm in the middle of auror training. They do background checks. I…you can't be here."

Delia nodded. That was to be expected. "This doesn't change anything between us, does it?"

Dana sighed and raked a hand through her hair. "You're the only family I have, Dee. This isn't going to change that. I…I can't understand your decision, but it doesn't mean I don't still love you."

Delia threw her arms around her twin and gave her a quick hug. "You know where to find me if you ever change your mind," she said, and then disapparated.

*****

November:

Ginny arrived home from work to find her answerphone full of nearly hysterical messages from Hermione. With an exasperated sigh, she pulled her cloak back on and apparated.

"It's a nightmare," Hermione explained as she ushered Ginny into the house. "You'll never guess what! The fabric on the yellow dresses has been recalled. I'll have to find another style, and it's such short notice! The wedding is next month! How am I going to find something in just a month?"

"Why would they recall the fabric?" Ginny asked, thanking her lucky stars that she wouldn't have to wear the terrible dress after all.

"It had a problem with spontaneous combustion, apparently. Gladrags has recalled all dresses made from that material."

Ginny gave a disbelieving laugh. "_Spontaneous combustion_?"

"I know!" Hermione exclaimed, rolling her eyes. "As though that matters when it's my wedding day!"

Ginny wondered if maybe her friend had lost her grip on reality. Hermione always got a little odd when she was under stress, though. This really was to be expected. At least on the day itself it would be Harry's job to take care of any glitches.

"And we'll never find a seamstress who can make that many dresses on such short notice…" Hermione was saying.

"Who says we need them made just for us?" Ginny cut in. "Have you still got that catalogue?" Hermione fished it out and Ginny flipped through the pages. "They always have the ready to wear clothes in the back. They'll be trying to unload them, so we can get a deal on the price. As for alterations, I'll see if my mum can't handle it. She knits those sweaters for us every year, after all. And she once made me a cloak that wasn't half bad."

Hermione considered that idea and found it acceptable. After putting their heads together over the catalogue for nearly an hour, Ginny finally talked her into a sleek ice-blue ankle-length sheath. It would look terrible with the aquamarine tablecloths (did any color look good with aquamarine?) but at least it would look good on Ginny, which was her biggest priority. Hermione liked it better than any of the other choices, and so the owl form was filled out and flown in. Everything was going to be fine. Yet another crisis in the upcoming Granger-Weasley nuptials had been averted.

*****

December

Ginny sat on the bed in her old room at the Burrow and, with eagle eyes, watched Gwen apply Hermione's makeup. Gwen had been hired to do the hair and cosmetics for all members of the bridal party; she and her spa employees were very much in demand but the Drs. Granger spared no expense for their only daughter's wedding day. Hermione's hair had been smoothed down and pinned up in coiled braids, and Gwen attached the veil to the complicated hairstyle. The veil, however, was the only piece of wedding attire Hermione wore—from the neck up she was a glowing bride, from the neck down she wore a faded tracksuit and fuzzy slippers.

Ginny watched the bride-to-be wring her hands. "Everything is going to be perfect," she said, hoping to calm Hermione's nerves. "This is your special day, and at the end of it we'll be sisters. Just relax and have fun."

Hermione was acutely aware that Ron and Harry were getting ready in the violently orange room just down the hall and up the stairs. She wanted very much to see Ron and hear him say that everything would go according to plan, but she couldn't talk to him before the ceremony. It was bad luck. Hermione thought the notion of bad luck was idiotic, but wizards were a superstitious people and there was no way Ginny would let her out the door. "Are the flowers—"

"Yes."

"And at the hall, have the caterers—"

"Yes."

"With the music, though. Is the band—"

"_Yes_. Hermione, it's all set. Harry won't let anything go wrong today. He'll take care of everything."

"But what if—"

"Stop talking," Gwen ordered. "I have to do your mouth." She tossed a sly wink at Ginny and then painstakingly applied the lipliner, topped with two coats of lipstick and a bit of gloss, finished off with a charm to keep it all in place. The entire operation took about four times as long as it should have. Ginny mentally thanked her friend.

There was a soft knock at the door. Ginny jumped up and cracked it open just enough to peek out; she wouldn't put it past her brother to try and sneak a glimpse of the bride before the ceremony. It was Hermione's mum, come to help her daughter into her wedding dress. Ginny and Gwen tactfully excused themselves to the twins' old room where Gwen's assistants primped the bridesmaids, three of Hermione's University friends.

"Honestly, Gin," Gwen was complaining. "The business is growing so fast, I'm going to need to hire an accountant."

"I'm surprised you haven't already," Ginny observed. Gwen's spa was a smash hit. Shannon had used her wealthy connections to help raise a good deal of venture capital, and so Gwen had been able to open a tasteful, well-decorated business and employ talented aestheticians. Unfortunately, her friend had a lot of beauty sense but hardly any experience in finances.

Ginny excused herself into the twins' small bathroom, leaving Gwen to supervise her employees. In the cramped space, Ginny managed to wriggle into her dress. It was a lovely color, and made her hair seem quite vibrant in comparison. She wondered if she could have Gwen do the silver freckle charm, but decided against it. This was Hermione's special day, after all. It would be bad form for Ginny to do anything that would draw attention to herself. She made sure that the dragon ring was concealed beneath her dress and then went back into the twins' room, gingerly picking her way to the door, careful not to step on the combs, jewelry, makeup kits, shoes, and other girly paraphernalia that littered the floor.

"Gin," Gwen asked, looking up from her scrutiny of a girl's eyeliner. "Don't you want me to put your hair up?"

"In a bit," Ginny replied. "I'm just going outside. I need some fresh air." The atmosphere in the twins' room was heavy with perfume; Ginny didn't think she could stay in there one more minute. Plus, these girls all knew each other from University. Ginny had only just met them the day before, at the rehearsal dinner. She'd never been very good around strangers.

"I'll come too," one of the bridesmaids volunteered, "to keep you company."

"You don't have to," Ginny said, but the girl insisted.

As they walked down the stairs, the bridesmaid introduced herself. "Rhiannon Rush. We met briefly last night."

"I remember," Ginny confirmed, shaking Rhiannon's hand. This girl was Harry's date for the wedding. Hermione had fixed them up a few months ago; she'd lasted longer than most of the others. It made Ginny feel slightly edgy, but she didn't stop to examine why. She had plenty of other things to think about today.

They wrapped themselves up in winter cloaks and stepped onto the back porch. Their breath came in puffs of condensation. "Whose brilliant idea was it to have a Christmas wedding?" Ginny asked. "It's freezing."

"I know," Rhiannon said, reaching into her cloak pocket and fishing out a packet of cigarettes. She held the carton to Ginny, who accepted one and let the bridesmaid light it up.

"Thanks," Ginny said, exhaling a thin stream of gray smoke. It was nearly the same color as her breath. "I really needed one of these."

They smoked together in companionable silence for a few seconds, and then Ginny dropped her fag to the floor and ground it out. Rhiannon raised a curious eyebrow.

Ginny sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "A few drags are usually enough to calm me down. I've been stressed about today for the past six months; I just have to keep telling myself that it's almost over."

Rhiannon ran her fingers through her dark, overly curly hair. She was taller than Ginny, with an open, friendly face, a dramatically long nose and rather thin lips. If she weren't Harry's…what? girlfriend?…Ginny probably would've taken an instant liking to her. As it was, though, she'd reserve judgement until she saw whether or not this classmate of Hermione's was good enough for her protector. "If you need any help today, just let me know," Rhiannon said.

"Thanks." Ginny gave her a small smile. "Harry's going to be taking care of most of it, because he's the best man. But if something comes up, I'll be sure to ask you."

The bridesmaid stubbed her fag on the railing and flicked the butt into a snowdrift. "I don't feel like going back up. That room is too crowded."

"I know. As soon as I go inside my mum or Hermione's mum or Hermione herself will have some other task for me. I just need a minute out here, away from all the wedding stuff."

Rhiannon nodded sympathetically. "I bet Herm has been running you ragged. There's no way I would've agreed to be her maid of honor, if she'd asked. The way everything has to be just so…"

Ginny sighed, but didn't reply. She felt intimidated around all these friends of Hermione's. They were university educated, with advanced degrees. Although Ginny considered herself to be uncommonly well read, the fact remained that she'd stopped school at age seventeen. She hoped none of these friends of Hermione's laughed at her behind her back. She'd hate to slip up and say something ignorant. Ginny would've loved to earn a degree as well, but that hadn't been an option.

Raucous laughter floated out of the house from somewhere above the girls' heads. Rhiannon looked up curiously. "What the hell?"

"The groomsmen," Ginny explained. "Mum put them in Percy's old room."

"Oh right," Rhiannon said. "I have to be escorted by…Neville, I think his name was. He's way too short for me; with these shoes I'm nearly a head taller than he is." She lifted up the hem of her skirt to reveal ice-blue heels. Ginny was still in her trainers. "I don't know why I couldn't have gotten the tall one."

"You probably mean Dean. He's the tallest."

"Even the blue-eyed one, Matt was it? He would've been fine."

"Mike," Ginny corrected absently. It should've been Seamus.

"I'm surprised that Ron isn't having your brothers in the wedding party."

Ginny shrugged. "Well, Harry had to be best man, of course. Hermione had three bridesmaids, which means that Ron could have only had three of our brothers. He didn't want to have to choose. Plus," a mischievous look flitted across her features, so quickly Rhiannon just barely caught it, "having the twins as groomsmen would've been a disaster. But it would've been a very good time."

"_Virginia Morgan!_" came a deafening bellow from deep within the house. For such a small woman, Molly Weasley had a robust set of lungs.

Ginny groaned. "Is it bad that it's eleven o'clock in the morning and I desperately need a drink?"

She and Rhiannon shared a comradely glance. "I've got your back," the bridesmaid said with an understanding smile. "It's all overwhelming, I know. I'll go inside and handle your mum's emergency. You stay out here and take a few minutes for yourself. You'll be no good to anyone if you're stressed to death before the ceremony even begins."

*****

"Is it bad that it's eleven o'clock in the morning and I desperately need a drink?"

Harry grinned. Luckily, he'd prepared for just such an emergency. "Here," he said, fishing a bottle out of his overnight bag. "Not too much; Hermione would kill me."

"What is it?" Ron asked.

"Tequila. Good stuff." Harry opened the bottle and let his friend take a long swallow, then returned the liquor to his bag without having any for himself. It was his job to keep everything running smoothly; it wouldn't do for him to get tipsy before the day had even really started. "Feel better?"

"Yeah," Ron answered, running his fingers through his hair.

"Quit," Harry ordered. "If you keep that up, Gwen will have to come in and do it all over again."

Ron flopped back onto the faded Chudley Cannons bedspread. "This is so weird, Harry. I mean, being here in this room, and today I'm marrying Hermione." He began to laugh, a nervous, slightly hysterical sound. "I'm marrying Hermione! Gods—"

"Ron," Harry said sternly, "today is going to be wonderful. It's the best day of your life. I'm going to take care of everything. Every single thing. Now stand up. You're getting wrinkled."

Ron obediently stood. "Can I have some more tequila?"

"No."

"Ah, well. It was worth a try." He got a fond look on his face. "She's going to be beautiful, isn't she? I've been looking forward to seeing her in her wedding dress for months."

"Everything is going to be perfect," Harry repeated. He flashed Ron a lopsided smile. "I'm happy for you two."

Ron smiled back. "Thanks. This…this'll be fun, right?"

"Of course. Ginny and I auditioned the band ourselves. They're fantastic." Harry walked over to Ron's mirror and redid the knot in his bowtie for the seventh time. He couldn't get it to look right.

"Have Ginny do it," Ron suggested. He had chosen a pre-tied bowtie for that very reason; he hadn't the faintest idea of how to knot one. How many times in his life would he ever have to wear a bowtie, for gods' sake? Harry had been stubborn though and insisted on a "real" tie. He said anything else was cheating.

"Good idea," Harry said, yanking the knot undone. "You'll be okay by yourself?"

"'Course," Ron answered. He looked terrified.

Harry put his hand on Ron's shoulder and looked him in the eyes. "Because I'll only be gone for a minute, you know. You _do_ know that, right? You're not going to…try and run away or anything, are you?"

"Nah." And now Ron looked much calmer. "I'm marrying the woman I love today, right?"

"Absolutely. I'll be right back."

Harry shut the door firmly behind him; it wouldn't do for Hermione to get a glimpse of Ron before the wedding. That was a classic recipe for bad luck, and Harry desperately wanted everything to be perfect today for his two best friends.

"Hey, Gin?" he called, trotting down the stairs. "Gin? My tie won't tie. I need—" He cut off as Rhiannon topped the stairs to the second floor. "You look nice," he said with a smile.

"I'm not the only one," she replied with a flirtatious glance. Then, "Ginny's outside. She needs a minute alone."

"Is she all right?" Harry's concern was not lost on Rhiannon. Very few things were.

"She's fine, just overwhelmed. I like her."

"She's likeable," Harry said noncommittally.

The couple looked at each other for an awkward beat and then she chirped, "So you need help with your tie? You've come to the right place."

Ginny topped the stairs and turned down the second floor hallway. The first thing she saw was Rhiannon knotting Harry's tie. It seemed like such an intimate thing; she wondered if she should go downstairs and wait for them to finish. Harry leaned down and kissed the bridesmaid, just a brief brush of his lips against hers, and then looked up and noticed Ginny. He smiled. "I think your mum was looking for you."

"I heard," she answered, feeling bad-tempered and short and red compared to Rhiannon.

Harry gave her an odd look. "Is everything all right?"

Ginny cleared her throat. She had to get hold of herself; she had responsibilities today. Her brother's wedding was not the time for a bad mood. "It's fine. We should be leaving soon. Can you collect the groomsmen and Ron and take them to the temple? Then send the limo back and we'll take Hermione, so they won't see each other."

"I'll take care of it," he said, giving Rhiannon one last smile. "Gin, you might want to change your shoes before you leave," he tossed over his shoulder as he disappeared up the stairs to Ron's tower room.

Ginny and Rhiannon faced each other for a beat, and then Rhiannon laughed. "What's so funny?" Ginny asked, disgruntled.

"I didn't notice your shoes before," the bridesmaid said amicably. "It's quite a look; ice blue silk and trainers."

"I was going outside," Ginny explained, feeling the start of a blush creep onto her cheeks. "I didn't want to slip on the snow; I'm not used to walking in heels." She felt stupid. Couldn't anything go right today?

"I'll tell you what," Rhiannon offered. "I'll find your shoes while you go have your hair put up. Your friend will have it done in no time."

"Thanks," Ginny said, giving her a grateful look.

Twenty minutes later, Gwen had swept Ginny's hair into a sleek updo and applied a pale coat of cosmetics to her face. As with all of Gwen's work, it was lovely. Rhiannon poked her head into the twins' room. "I found the shoebox under your bed." She presented it to Ginny with a friendly grin.

Gwen gave a strangled gasp, and Ginny gave her a subtle but not-too-gentle elbow in the ribs. "Thanks so much. Rhiannon, did you change your lipstick? It looks different."

In fact, the bridesmaid's entire face looked different. Her eyes were now ringed with heavy black eyeliner, and her lipstick was a very, very dark shade of red. "I just fixed it up a little is all," Rhiannon answered. She gave her reflection a satisfied glance. "Not that it wasn't lovely before, Gwen. It just wasn't what I'm used to."

Gwen opened her mouth to say something and got another elbow for her trouble. "You look great," Ginny said with a big smile.

"I'll collect everyone and meet you downstairs," the bridesmaid told her. "The limo just got back from taking the boys to the temple." And then she was gone.

Gwen sputtered, indignant. "What was that? Did you _see_ the color of her lips, with how pale her skin is? Oh my God. Just…oh my God. And with how light the dresses are? What was she thinking?"

Ginny fought back a laugh. "Who knew that Harry was dating a goth? If it's how she's comfortable, there's nothing we can say. As long as _she's_ happy, what do we care?"

"I care a great deal. Everyone is going to think that I made her up like that."

"Nobody is going to think that." Ginny laughed again, in earnest now. "It's a good thing we're wearing blue. The yellow wouldn't have suited her at all."

*****

The temple to the Otherworld was a beautiful place. The walls were made almost entirely of glass that trapped heat and kept the building warm. Outside was a frozen Christmas wasteland of snow and ice, barely glimpsed through unfogged patches on the windows, places where the lacy condensation had been rubbed free. The inside was a greenhouse, a year-round shrine to the outdoors and the gods who ruled the natural world. Trees, bushes, and flowers filled every bit of empty floor space. Vines climbed up the walls and hung in loose swags from the ceiling. The center aisle was tiled in white, and the seats on either side were comfortably cushioned, but made of a knotty wood that was rooted in the ground, trees that had been coaxed into chair-shapes by the diligent priests.

Harry stood at the front of the temple, right behind Ron. "Is she here yet?" the groom murmured, turning his head slightly to look at his best friend.

"I saw the limo pull up while I was helping to seat people," Harry answered. "About twenty minutes ago. You know Hermione, though. She's probably fussing with every last detail, making sure it's all perfect, driving your sister crazy."

"Yeah," Ron said with a small laugh. "She's great, isn't she?"

"Great," Harry agreed.

Ron cleared his throat. "Listen, Harry," he murmured quietly, looking suddenly serious. "I just wanted you to know that there's nobody I'd rather have stand up with me. I mean—"

"Thanks." Harry cut Ron off with a reassuring look before his friend got sentimental. The groom needed to hold it together just now. The biggest moment of his life was fast approaching.

"Hey, Ron, save the love for Hermione," Mike said, softly enough that the guests wouldn't hear but loud enough for the groomsmen's ears. Dean and Neville snorted with barely repressed laughter.

"Shut up, Fletcher," Harry said without turning around. But he felt instantly guilty. There was no excuse for letting his dislike for Mike get in the way of Ron and Hermione's special day.

Ron, however, was oblivious. He watched the Muggles that filled the seats reserved for the Grangers. They eyed their surroundings skeptically. "I bet they've never even heard of a temple to the Otherworld," he said. "They probably all think I've gotten Hermione into some kind of weird cult. And look at my side." He nodded towards the Weasley family's guests. "Did they all have to wear robes? What's Hermione's family going to think?"

"They'll love you," Harry reassured. "What problems her parents don't smooth over, Ginny's potion will take care of."

Just then the music changed, became the stately, traditional wedding march. Hermione had insisted on that. One by one, the bridesmaids walked slowly up the aisle. Harry looked appreciatively at Rhiannon, who gave him a sly wink. But then his attention was riveted to the redheaded vision in ice-blue silk who walked slowly to the front of the church, clutching her bouquet in a death grip. She kept her eyes fixed straight ahead so that she wouldn't have to see all the guests looking at her, concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other without tripping over her high heels, and beamed with happiness for her brother, all at the same time. She was a vision. An adorable vision. Gods, but he loved her.

When Ginny was almost to the front she managed to glance at her brother and give him an encouraging smile, and then as she turned to face the front her smile shifted briefly to Harry._ I made it up here without falling on my face_.

__

So you did, he replied. _Well done. The hard part is over._

At the back of the temple Hermione stepped into view, her parents on either side. The guests all stood to get a better look. Ron swelled with pride and Harry beamed. "Perfect," Ron said under his breath. "You were right, Harry. Everything is perfect." 

Hermione reached the front of the temple, put her hand in Ron's, and whispered, her eyes shining happily, "You've got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?"

*****

Draco walked down the third floor east wing hall. This area of Malfoy Manor was quiet and still. The heavy carpet muffled his footsteps and the paintings on the walls watched him as he paced by. Just as he reached a thick, ornately carved wooden door, it opened and a man stepped out. This mediwizard was short and balding. He gazed at Draco with a somber expression, pity in his eyes. "I'm sorry."

Draco's face was unreadable. "There's nothing you can do?"

The doctor shook his head. "I've tried everything. For three weeks she's been wasting away; all we can do is make her comfortable until the end."

"And when will that be?" the young man asked, displaying a great amount of self-control. It wouldn't do to reveal his feelings on this situation to a complete stranger.

The wizard sighed and put a comforting hand on Draco's arm. "Any minute now. It's a good thing you made it in time."

Draco nodded, thanked the doctor, and entered the room, shutting the door firmly behind him. The place was crowded with young Death Eaters; Draco had built up quite a following in the past year. He approached nearly every new recruit the Dark Lord made. After coming face-to-face with the demonic visage of Voldemort, most of them were more than willing to give their loyalty to the handsome, charismatic Malfoy heir. Now the members of his faction stood in this room to comfort one of their own, to say their final farewells.

Alicia Avery lay on the bed, pale and thin. She'd been ill for nearly a month—a slow, wasting sickness that sapped more of her strength each passing day. She coughed pathetically, and called for him.

The crowd parted to let him through. He sat on the mattress beside her and gently took her hand in his. He could feel the fine bones in her fingers and wrist; she was more skeleton than human, more dead than alive. "Draco," she rasped.

"I'm right here," he said softly, stroking his thumb over the back of her hand. "I'm here, Alicia."

She gave a weak smile before her body convulsed in a spasm of pain. "Draco," she breathed when it had passed, "there's something I have to tell you."

He brushed her hair back from her face. "Shh. Don't try to talk."

"No," she insisted. "I have to tell you this before I…."

"Alicia—"

"Please," she rasped, coughing weakly. "I have to say it. I…I thought about telling the Dark Lord your plan. I was so happy when I thought I might be the Pendragon, and when it turned out to be Ginny Weasley I just…I was so jealous at the thought of you joining your mind to hers." Alicia was crying now; quiet tears welled in her eyes and trailed down her sunken cheeks. "I love you so much, Draco. I just couldn't bear the thought of you being so close to anyone else. I haven't told the Dark Lord anything, I swear. But I considered it."

Draco gently brushed the tears from her face. "Alicia," he said gently, "I already knew." 

He bent down and kissed her cheek, a tender gesture meant to soothe her. Then he pulled back, looked in her eyes and said, "That's why I poisoned you."

Alicia's eyes grew wide with horror. Another spasm shook her body, and then she lay still, her eyes glazed and unseeing. She was dead.

Draco dropped her hand and stood, turning to face his faction. They all stared at him in shock. "What?" he asked. "She considered going to the Dark Lord. She wouldn't just have been turning me in, but all of us."

He saw the horror dawn on their faces as they realized exactly what would've happened to them had Alicia done what she planned. "I take care of my own," Draco told them. "That means that each and every one of you has my loyalty for as long as I have yours. I killed her to protect everyone in this room."

Shannon looked from Alicia's body to Draco's cold, determined face. He had killed for them. They all owed him a life debt. Shannon tried to get upset at the idea, but the feelings just weren't forthcoming. Rather, she felt grateful to Draco for doing what he had. He looked at the crowd and ordered, "Someone have her body sent to her parents. Blaise, Delia, Shannon, come with me."

The four of them stepped into the hallway and he said quietly, "The Dark Lord is planning another sacrifice. I think the Pendragon has become necessary, although this is sooner than I'd hoped to need her. If Voldemort gains much more power, he'll be unstoppable."

"What do you want to do?" Delia asked.

Blaise suggested, "I could put together a team. She wouldn't stand a chance."

Draco nodded. "That's a good idea. Tell them about their task, and we'll take her next month. Shannon, we're going to need you especially. It'll do her good to have a friend nearby when she's brought here. It should help her get used to the situation, if you're the one to explain."

Shannon nodded. "Ginny is loyal to wizardkind. I'm sure we'll be able to convince her."

"Good then," Draco said. "Blaise, pick the five best fighters we have. We move in four weeks."

*****

Ginny ate quickly. She had duties to perform, after all. Harry's toast was coming up, and he hated public speaking. He'd stepped outside, leaving Ginny to circulate and make sure the guests' drinks were filled, and that everyone was happy with the food and their seating arrangements. Technically this was the best man's job, but she had offered. Harry had been nearly sick with anxiety, and so she had sent him off to be alone for a few minutes.

He was a nervous wreck; she could feel it through the link. Still, when he reentered the banquet hall he looked calm, unruffled, perfectly composed, and rather like James Bond in his dinner jacket, if James Bond had a problem with chronically messy hair. Harry spotted Ginny going from table to table and came up behind her, gently resting his hand on her lower back as he leaned down and murmured in her ear, "If I don't do it now, I'm going to lose my nerve."

His palm felt hot through the thin material of her dress. Ginny ruthlessly ignored the sensation. "Right," she whispered back. "The guests are all set. Nobody is going to interrupt you to get another drink or ask for more food."

"Then let's get this over with."

They walked back up to the front of the room and seated themselves behind the long table that's only purpose seemed to be to put the wedding party on display. Ginny couldn't wait until the dancing started. She felt prickly and uncomfortable at the guests' eyes on her.

Harry stood and raised his glass. The conversation died down to a few flurried whispers, and then silenced all together. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. _You can do it_, Ginny told him. _You'll be fantastic_. He glanced over and gave her an inscrutable look, and then began.

"Would anybody mind if I took this time to wish Hermione and Ron a happy two hour anniversary?" The guests chuckled, which put Harry somewhat at ease. "I would like to say thank you to the Drs. Granger for all that you've done to make this the special day that it is. And, of course, my gratitude to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley for all of your support and all that you've done to make this, by all accounts, the perfect day. And finally, thank you, Ron, for making such a good choice for the best man." Another laugh swept the room, and Harry visibly loosened up.

"In our lifetimes, we are gifted a small number of truly 'landmark moments.' They start small enough, say, making your house sport team or getting your first perfect score on a homework assignment. They grow in power and significance; earning a University degree, getting a big promotion at work," he glanced down at Ron and Hermione, beamed at them with fondness and pride, "falling in love and knowing that it's forever." Ginny listened with rapt attention. His words were doing something strange to her insides. "It is a perfect moment when you look into the eyes of the most wonderful, caring, giving individual that you've ever known and realize you've found true love."

And now he wasn't looking at the bride and groom anymore. He had shifted his gaze to Ginny. "A moment like this and the commitment which follows should be celebrated to its fullest." He turned to the guests and told them, "It is our duty to ensure that this moment in the lives of Hermione and Ron does not pass unrecognized." His emerald gaze flicked back to Ginny. She couldn't look away. "In celebrating their happiness we might just make this one of the landmark moments of our own lives."

Back to the bride and groom. "It is with great pleasure that I say congratulations to my two best friends. May you share many warm days and many warm nights. Everyone raise your glass. Here's to Hermione and Ron."  
  
"To Hermione and Ron," everyone saluted. Ginny clinked her champagne glass with Rhiannon's and then downed a rather large swallow. The bubbles exploded on her tongue and the cool liquid slid down her throat. It was delicious.

"That was perfect," Rhiannon praised. "He was so nervous. He practiced in front of the mirror for nearly three hours last night."

"Did he?" Ginny asked mildly. "It certainly paid off."

Not long after, the band began to play. Ron and Hermione got the first dance, of course. They revolved slowly in each other's arms, talking quietly and occasionally breaking into laughter. Ginny couldn't have been happier for them. A marriage that began with laughter was one that was sure to last. Andrew, Ginny's date for the wedding, observed, "They look so happy."

"They really love each other," she replied, leaning against the wall beside him and watching her brother and his wife. Ron was married. What a strange thought. He didn't _look_ any different, but his whole life had changed in just one day. Still, Ginny had always thought it would be nice to have a sister, and she was glad it was Hermione.

The song wound down, and it was the bridal party's turn in the spotlight. Harry caught her eye from across the room and Ginny excused herself from Andrew to join him on the floor. As the best man and maid of honor, they had to partner each other. "Your toast was excellent," she said.

"I'm just relieved it's over." They were silent for a moment; this was the first time they'd danced together since the Halloween Ball during Ginny's sixth year. "So," Harry said in an attempt to make conversation, "how serious is it with Andrew?"

Ginny went immediately on the defensive. "Andrew and I are friends."

"Like you and Mike were friends?"

She arched a brow. "Like you and Rhiannon are friends?"

He laughed quietly. "_Touché._" A pause, and then he asked, "What do you think of her?"

"Who? Rhiannon?"

He nodded.

"She's wearing too much makeup."

Harry smiled at that. "I hadn't noticed."

"You wouldn't."

"Now what's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that men are unobservant when it comes to details."

"You wound me, Gin," he said quietly, a sparkle of mirth in his eyes. "You with your dress that's slightly too long, the shoes you're not used to walking in, and the one small tendril that's escaped from your hairstyle and is curling across the back of your neck. Don't tell me I don't see. Not when it's important."

"Are you saying Rhiannon isn't important?" Ginny was finding it very hard to breathe, being held so close to him. She wished she could step away, get outside for some fresh air. Still, she fought to keep her tone light.

"I never said that. I like Rhiannon. She's a very nice person."

"You're going to break her heart," Ginny predicted.

Harry laughed out loud. "I doubt that very much."

"You will," she insisted. "Just like you did to all the others."

"Which others?" He was impossibly amused. Mike Fletcher was a heartbreaker, not he.

Ginny rattled off a whole list of names. "Donna, Bertie, Lynn, Anne, Hoshiko, Emma, Amanda…are any of these sounding familiar?"

He stared at her in disbelief. "Do you realize you just named them in order?"

Ginny blushed furiously. This was not going her way. Not at all.

He continued, his eyes unreadable, "Ginny, are you jealous by any chance?"

"_No_," she answered furiously. "Of course not."

"Of course not," he echoed. "All the same, if you were you could tell me." Then he frowned and looked at something over her head. "Who's that girl sitting with Gwen?" He spun them around so that Ginny could get a look.

"Her name is Esme Contarosa," Ginny explained. "She's one of Hermione's uni friends, with a business degree. Gwen has been looking to hire someone to take over the spa's finances, so I thought I'd help a bit by putting them together."

"They don't look like they're talking business," Harry observed.

Ginny's eyes sparkled mischievously. "They're probably not."

Surprise invested every feature. "You've got to be kidding. Gwen isn't…I mean, she isn't, is she?" Ginny nodded, and Harry laughed. "The boys of Gryffindor will be devastated to learn. When did she tell you?"

"She hasn't ever," Ginny answered, "but I caught her checking Ria out a few times. I think she and Esme will get along very well."

He swung her into a particularly complicated turn, and for a moment they were unable to speak. When it was over, Ginny cleared her throat. "Are you going to go home with her tonight?"

"Who? Gwen?"

"No, Rhiannon."

"It's only the polite thing to do. We wouldn't want her apparating by herself, would we? What if she got splinched?" The likelihood of Rhiannon splinching herself was nil, and they both knew it. "Unless," he said, his eyes intent on hers, "you didn't want me to, for some reason. Then I think I could let her go home alone. Is there some reason you don't want me to leave with her tonight, Ginny?"

Those damn green eyes…they saw too much for their own good. She _didn't_ want him leaving with Rhiannon tonight, but if she told him so he'd expect certain promises in return, promises Ginny was incapable of giving. "No," she managed to say. "You two have a wonderful time."

He sighed, suddenly weary. "We will. Don't worry on that score. Are you going home with Andrew?"

Ginny shook her head. "I'm staying at the Burrow tonight. My parents will be glad for the company. The others all have to get right back to their lives, but I have tomorrow off work, so…"

Harry had tomorrow off too, but he didn't volunteer the information. He needed this dance over as soon as possible, to put as much physical space between them as he could. She still wasn't ready to give him what he wanted. At the same time, though, he relished the feeling of holding her close, of being so near. It was right, although it was still the wrong time.

*****

Ginny lay on the sofa, watching the flames dance in the fireplace through half-closed eyes. The Christmas tree lights twinkled and sparkled as they reflected off the handmade ornaments—souvenirs of seven Weasley childhoods. A popcorn garland looped around the tree, white against its green needles. She and Ron had made it just last week. Ginny missed Ron already. She knew the honeymoon would be over in two weeks and then he'd be back at work, but it wouldn't be the same. Hermione was his family now. Just as Ginny was starting to get well and truly depressed, there was a loud knock at the front door.

She lay still and hoped the visitor would go away. Who could possibly have come over in this weather? The snow fell thick and fast, threatening to turn into a blizzard by morning. The knock sounded again, and Ginny wearily pulled herself to her feet. Maybe one of the bridesmaids had forgotten something.

She blinked in surprise when she opened the door and saw Harry standing there, huddled in his long black overcoat, teeth chattering. Ginny hurriedly stepped aside to let him in and shut the door against the cold outside.

Harry shrugged out of his winter coat and dinner jacket and pulled his knit hat off of his head, leaving his hair standing up in riotous spikes. He'd removed his waistcoat already. Ginny wondered where he'd left it, but didn't ask. He eyed her clothing. "You look comfortable."

She wore black drawstring pajama pants and an old sweater of Ron's that was way too big. "You don't."

He was still in his dress trousers, high-polished shoes, and white shirt. The top button on his collar was open, though, and his tie hung unknotted around his neck. "Where are your parents?" he asked, still shivering slightly, pink-cheeked from the cold.

"They went to bed a few hours ago," Ginny replied. "Why don't you go into the living room and have a seat in front of the fire? I'll be right in."

She joined him shortly, bringing two glasses with her. "What's that?" he asked.

Ginny handed one to him. "Eggnog and butterscotch liqueur. It'll warm you up." They sat together in silence for a while, looking into the flames, remembering the day, sipping their drinks.

Finally, Harry spoke. "I hope I didn't wake you up."

"No," she answered. "I was just laying down here feeling sorry for myself. It's a good thing you showed up to snap me out of it. I thought you were staying at Rhiannon's tonight."

He shrugged. "I changed my mind."

"And?"

"And I came here instead."

"I'm glad," she said softly. "I was lonely."

They were silent again for a while, then Ginny spoke up. "You were wonderful today. Everything went off without a hitch."

There was no response. She turned her head to look at Harry; he was sound asleep, his head drooping forward. He'd run himself ragged today. Ginny took the glass from his limp hands before it could drop to the floor and then gently, but with no little difficulty and quite a bit of silver magic, maneuvered him into a semi-horizontal position on the sofa. It was a tight fit; he was just barely too tall. She covered him with an afghan and then gingerly removed his glasses and set them on the end table. He'd come back to see her. The thought gave her a warm, comfortable feeling. Her earlier sadness was gone.

Ginny reached down and, with a soft, tender motion, brushed his damp hair out of his face. Then she left the family room and climbed the stairs to go to bed, no less tired than he.

* * * *

A/N part two—DRI gets full credit for the memory potion. She made it up. If you don't want to wait for year five, it's up in the files section of the HP Pendragon yahoo group. groups.yahoo.com/group/HPPendragon is the place to be. I'd love to see you there!

The chapter has now ended.


	14. Epilogue Part Three

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Title: The Rebirth – Epilogue Part Three

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Author name: Irina   
**Author email:** irina@schnoogle.com

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Category: drama, romance  
**Keywords: **Ginny, destiny, angst, romance, drama  
**Spoilers: **All four books  
**Rating:** R

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Summary: So why _did_ Voldemort try to kill Harry? An ancient power has reawakened and the answers to all the mysteries lie with Ginny Weasley.

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Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

A/N: Danette and DRI are the betas. They're extremely cool. Yay, Danette and DRI! Thanks to all my muses at the HP Pendragon yahoo group. I'd love you see you there – groups.yahoo.com/group/HPPendragon is the place to be!

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Epilogue Part Three

Year Five—2001

January:

The heat in the tunnel was overpowering. Ginny dripped with sweat and stumbled forward, her breath coming in short, frantic gasps. They'd had intelligence that said the Lestranges had been sighted near their old mansion, now derelict. A raid was planned, and the former Azkaban inmates had fled into the catacombs below the house, three Auror teams in hot pursuit.

Once underground, though, the tide had turned. Death Eaters poured from every cavern and side tunnel, surrounding them, cutting off any escape route. The combatants' sides were now evenly matched in number and skill. Curses and hexes buzzed through the air; shouts echoed and bounced off the slimy stone walls.

Ginny didn't have time to think. She operated on instinct; moving, dodging, shooting in a kind of martial trance. There was nothing but the heat and noise and salty sweat getting in her eyes and trickling down her back. Ginny's arm began to cramp from gripping her wand so tightly, a dull, tight ache. Her throat was scratchy and hoarse, but she couldn't stop yelling, not for a single moment. The constant barrage of spells that flew from her wand was the only thing standing between her and death. Or worse, captivity.

So she dueled on, dodging and blocking curses, sometimes against as many as three Death Eaters at once. Each time a dueling opponent fell, another stepped in to take his place.

But Ginny was fighting another battle, and losing meant consequences even graver and more terrible than surrendering to the Dark Wizards. Her silver power roared and shrieked through her, demanded to be let out, strained and clawed and howled against the barrier of her willpower. It pushed to be set free, hungered to cover her enemies, to show what happens to those who stand against the Pendragon. If these people learned who Ginny really was, it would put her family in even more danger than if they learned she was Agent Jezebel. So Ginny grimly pressed on, fighting them and fighting herself. There was no other option.

The lights from flying spells reflected off the Death Eaters' silver masks. Red, green, blue, orange, they chased through the air in ever transmuting colors and patterns. The Death Eaters were losing. The Aurors were too well trained; these teams were almost exclusively combat veterans, people who fought fiercely and gave no quarter. At a signal from the Lestranges, the unwounded Dark Wizards disapparated.

The catacombs were heavy with silence. The Aurors still standing all stared at each other, shocked at how suddenly the conflict had ended. Ginny was the first to shake herself out of it. She coughed to clear her dry throat and stepped over a Death Eater who lay prone on the floor, bending down to snap his wand in two. The crack of the breaking wood shook the other Aurors out of their stupor, and they started standard cleanup procedures, quietly moving from body to body, using incarceration Portkeys on the stupefied Death Eaters and triaging the wounded prisoners for treatment back at the division. As Ginny straightened, a sudden movement close to the ground caught her eye.

One of the fallen Death Eaters, a woman covered in blood and obviously not long for this world, was still conscious. Her hand inched slowly toward her wand, and then she raised it from the ground and pointed it directly at Osiris's back.

Ginny's throat worked, but no sound came out. She hurled herself at her fellow team leader, slamming into his chest just as a green light flashed and a terrible wind rushed through the catacombs, ruffling the Aurors' hair and sweeping away the life of one of their own. Ginny hadn't been fast enough. She knew he was dead before they hit the ground.

She came down on top of Osiris's limp body and raised her head, eyes locking with those of the Death Eater across the stone floor. The Dark Witch grinned demonically. The Auror looked stunned. They held each other's gazes for only a moment before men swarmed around the Death Eater, taking her wand from her now lax fingers and snapping it, stunning her with unnecessary force, transporting her to a secure holding cell. At the same time, rough hands grabbed the back of Ginny's clothes and hauled her off the dead man and to her feet. It was Harry, eyes blazing with fury more intense than any emotion she'd seen from him in years. _Are you insane? Throwing yourself in the way of the killing curse_? he yelled in her mind, gripping her upper arms so she couldn't move away.

__

Much good it did, she answered, feeling very cold despite the heat in the tunnel. Her head ached from his shouts.

__

How could you have been so careless?

__

I'm never careless. Reckless? Often. Careless? Never, she corrected, prying his fingers loose and backing out of his reach. _It's in my blood. I come from a long line of Gryffindors_.

She turned away, but he swung her back around. _Don't you dare use Gryffindor House as an excuse. You're not immortal. Do you have any idea what could've happened to you?_

He's a team leader, Harry! I couldn't just stand there and watch—

You can't just throw yourself in the way of an Avada Kadavra_, Ginny!_

I didn't throw myself in the way, she said, disgruntled._ I just tried to knock him—_

You can't waste yourself on stupid, daredevil heroics! You have—

"Stop!" she shouted aloud, jerking away. The other Aurors all turned from Osiris's body to look at the pair. "Get on with it," Ginny snapped at them. Then, to Harry, she said, _You would've done the same thing. It was instinct. He's a team leader. _Her raw throat felt tight; gods, she hoped she wouldn't cry. She had a reputation to uphold. _I'm so sorry if I risked the precious Pendragon powers that you and Dumbledore are so hung up on, but—_

Is that what you think? he asked sharply. _Do you know what it did to me, watching you throw yourself at that green light? Do you have any _idea_ what…my parents were…_ He was so upset he couldn't even speak.

Ginny felt immediately guilty; he hadn't been angry that she'd risked the Pendragon, but that she'd risked herself. Gods, when would she learn that she couldn't jump to conclusions with this man? She always assumed the worst. Once again she felt like she was going to cry, but shored up her resolve and tamped the emotion down.

Aloud, she said to Harry. "Take care of your team. You were his second, so you're in charge for now. I imagine Catherine will want to talk to you when we get back." For once, she wasn't the one who would get promoted on the back of somebody's death.

*****

Ginny sat back in her chair and sighed. Beneath their smiles, her fellow team leaders looked no less dissatisfied than she felt. The funeral had been that morning; killed in the line of duty, an Avada Kadavra in the back, Order of Merlin Second Class. Meaningless words. When they finally caught the mole, he was going to wish he'd never been born. All of their attempts at internal investigation were thwarted—Voldemort via Fudge had seen to that. Catherine was at her wits' end and there was nothing for the Aurors to do but mourn, and then come back to work the next day and keep going. After the service the team leaders had adjourned to a dimly lit Muggle pub and, in the tradition of funerals, memorialized their fallen comrade with remember whens and tales of embellished humor.

Harry sat beside her; he had been Osiris's second, his right hand man. Now Catherine had put him in charge of the team. He was uncomfortable in their company; the other team leaders regarded him with a veiled resentment, as the man who profited from their friend's death. Ginny knew she should attempt to draw him into the conversation and make him feel included, one of them, but she just didn't have the energy.

Ginny was tired. Tired of her friends, people she cared about, dying all around her. Tired of fighting and losing battle after battle as a soldier in a war that wasn't her choice. Tired of lying to her family. Tired of keeping the silver inferno under control, well contained and hidden. It all grew harder every day, until she wanted to scream in anger and frustration. But she stayed in line, did her job without complaint, and went about her life. _The fact that you're the Pendragon is not to go beyond this room_. Dumbledore had impressed how important it was that her identity stay secret, and secret it would remain.

The air in the pub was hazy with cigarette smoke, a stench that would cling to her clothes and hair through several washings. Most of the Aurors had fags drooping from their lips. Ginny desperately wanted one as well, to feel the calming rush of nicotine through her lungs and into her blood. But not here. Never in front of Harry. It was only an occasional habit, only when she was at the end of her mental rope. The dirty tar in the smoke, the acrid smell, the deliciously seedy feeling of snatching a secret fag in an alley was an outward manifestation of something inside of her, the weakness—that she wasn't superhuman; that sometimes she needed a drug to calm her nerves and focus her mind. This belonged to her and no one else.

The loud talk and false jocularity died down; smiles slipped away to unmask their ring of discontent. They sat silently, listlessly, communicating without speech. They'd find the ones responsible. There was nothing else to do, no need to waste words on pledges and vows. These were people of action, the best of the best in the Auror division.

Ginny tossed back the last of her drink and slid her chair back, feeling slightly unsteady through the numbing fog in her mind. "Order me another, would you?" she asked, picking her purse up from the floor.

"Another one?" Harry asked doubtfully.

"Don't listen to him," another Auror said. "What're you having, then?"

"Vodka," Ginny replied, shooting Harry a glance that was both annoyed and smug.

"On the rocks?"

"Neat," she corrected. "If you gentlemen will excuse me, I'm off to the powder room."

As the Auror flagged down a passing waiter and placed Ginny's order, Harry watched her walk across the pub. She moved in the controlled, deliberate way of someone who has had slightly too much to drink and knows it, but hopes that no one else will notice.

He sat in silence for a few more minutes, watching his new coworkers, feeling like an unwelcome intruder. Harry lifted his mug to drain the last of his beer, and every mental siren he possessed went off. The glass crashed to the ground, and he was up and running to the back of the pub. She was in danger.

The Aurors watched him go. "What do you suppose his problem is?"

Another snorted derisively. "Git probably can't hold his liquor. I haven't the faintest idea what Ginny sees in him. He has a famous name, and he thinks it means he can be an Auror. Twitchy rich boy."

And slowly they resumed their conversation.

*****

Ginny located the door that opened into a back alley, a narrow hallway of brick, and went outside, stumbling slightly on the downward step. It was late afternoon, cold and dusk. She hated the winter. What a miserable time of year. Ginny kept her eyes fixed on the ground as insurance against a fall and lit a fag. She shut her eyes at the first drag, wishing that the day were over so she could go home and crawl into bed.

As she lowered the cigarette from her mouth, someone grabbed her from behind.

A powerful arm snaked around her waist, pinning her elbows against her sides. A large hand closed over her mouth, and she was pulled backwards; her back slammed into a very muscular chest. She tensed; the vodka cloud that dulled her mind evaporated as her thoughts and senses focused to a razor sharp edge. "Come with us quietly and you won't be hurt," the man rasped, hot breath on her ear.

Ginny nodded frantically. He felt her tremble, and thought it was from fear rather than the cold. It was just the opening she'd been looking for.

Bending her arm at the elbow, Ginny swung her cigarette up and stubbed it into the man's wrist, holding it there. He cried out at the burn and his grasp of her relaxed just enough for her to wrench free and whirl around. Before he knew what happened, she'd let loose two well-aimed punches—one to the nose, his blood spurted down the front of his shirt; the other to his chin in the same maneuver she'd used on Agent Bloom all those years ago. Her regular sword bouts with Mórrígan had made her strong. His jaw snapped as she knocked him right off his feet. He landed in the snow, but she didn't have time to gloat over him as she was once again grabbed from behind.

Ginny swayed to the side, gaining enough purchase to drive an elbow into the solar plexus of her attacker. As his hold loosened she launched herself at a third, driving his head into the brick wall of the building. There was a loud crack, and he slumped into the dirty snow. She whirled around, facing the remaining three. They all leapt on her at once. She bit and clawed, scratched and punched and kicked. The alcohol slowed her reactions, just enough to give them an opening. One rolled on top of her, pinning her to the black, slushy pavement with his weight. She drove her knee into his groin, the move she's used on Seamus countless times. When he doubled up in pain, she rolled from beneath him and faced the last two.

Ginny was cold and wet, and breathing hard. She faced them from across the alley and waited. She wasn't kept long. One of them threw himself at her, lifting her right off her feet and pinning her against the back of the pub. Her body crushed against the rough brick and knocked the wind out of her. Hauling in a deep breath, Ginny slammed her palms against the side of his head, as hard and fast as she could. His eardrums burst, and the agonizing explosion of pain dropped him to the ground. She stumbled as he released her, but quickly regained her footing and, bloody hands raised to attack, whirled to face the fifth and last attacker.

She found herself looking down the barrel of a gun. A Muggle gun. She froze. "That's right," he said. "You'll come with me now."

She swallowed her fear and her mind raced, running through possible scenarios. She tensed, ready to launch herself at him, and he released the safety. "Don't move."

She didn't.

The man she'd disabled with a knee to the groin had recovered sufficiently enough to stand and close his arms around her from behind. "If you fight us, I swear you'll _wish_ we'd killed you," he rasped, his breath still coming in gasps. Ginny couldn't look away from the gun.

A shout rent the air, and the one holding her released his grasp enough to look over his shoulder. His arms loosened, and he slumped to the ground. Ginny took advantage of the distraction and threw a well-aimed kick at the man with the gun. The weapon flew out of his hand and she jumped on top of him, driving her elbow down onto his collarbone, snapping it in two. The pain dropped him.

Ginny dragged herself to her feet and looked up, pushing damp strings of hair out of her eyes. Harry stood in the doorway, very white, wand drawn. "You shot him in the back," she managed to say.

"His friend had a gun to your head," he countered, looking at the bodies that littered the alley. "He's only stunned; I didn't kill him. What happened? Are you all right?"

Ginny began to shiver. She was wet to the skin from rolling around in the slush and snow, and the January wind cut right through her, chilling her bones. "They jumped me," she managed to say through chattering teeth.

Harry stepped over the prone body of the stupefied man and shrugged out of his suit coat, gently settling it around her shoulders. It hung nearly to her knees. Ginny's shivering intensified, and he ran his hands up and down her arms, bringing back memories of another time, years ago, when Mórrígan dropped her in the lake and Harry gave her the cloak off his back to make her warm again. "It looks like you handled yourself well," he said. "You got four of them."

"Still, if you hadn't shown up—"

He shook his head. "I was just a little bit of help. It's what I'm here for."

She was shaking in earnest now, not entirely from the cold, and looked at the men on the ground. "Who are they, do you think?"

"Did they use magic on you?"

She shook her head.

"Then they're probably just Muggles who were after your purse."

"They didn't ask for my wallet, or my watch," she told him.

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Then they were probably after a great deal more than your money."

"Should we call the police?"

He thought about that. "If we did, you'd have to explain how it is that you caused this much damage, all by yourself. I think what's just happened will make them think twice about attacking someone again." Harry ran his hands over her arms once more, and then folded her into a quick embrace, not caring that she was filthy and wet. "Gods, Gin, am I glad you're all right!" he murmured in her ear. "Can I take you home? You could clean up and then get into bed." He tipped her chin up and said, "We can order takeaway. Anything you want."

It sounded heavenly. "What about the others?"

"Never mind about them. You can make your excuses tomorrow at work."

Ginny nodded. "Thanks."

Harry closed his hand around hers. He never wanted to feel that way again, the terrible fury and heart-stopping fear that had closed around his soul when he saw her with a gun to her head. Together, they disapparated.

Once they were gone, the alley was silent and deserted; the five men lay still, three unconscious, two awake but in a great deal of pain. As the minutes ticked by, the attackers' appearances dissolved, their skin and features melting away to reveal their true faces. The one with the broken collarbone groaned; he was in agony. The pain of his injury combined with the torment of Polyjuice was too much to bear. He blacked out.

Several popping noises echoed off the brick walls. A small group of Death Eaters apparated and took the scene in at a glance. Shannon immediately ran to Blaise's side. "What happened? Are you all right?" In the dim light, she could see smears of blood on the pavement and in the snow. She didn't think any of it had come from Blaise, but checked him for wounds just to be sure. When she jostled his shoulder against the cement, the fireworks of pain shocked him out of his faint. "Stop!" he ground out through clenched teeth. "She broke my collarbone."

"Oh, gods! Really?" Shannon asked. She knew Ginny needed to be apprehended soon, but couldn't help but feel a niggling sense of pride in her friend. "Delia, come here quickly."

Delia jogged over and crouched down, sizing Blaise up. She aimed her wand and said, "_Sano_," a spell to knit broken bones. Delia had a talent for medical magic.

Blaise sat up and rubbed his shoulder. The arm was still a bit stiff, and would be for a few weeks. Delia had moved on, helping Draco and Pansy check the other Death Eaters. "We have a broken nose and jaw over here," she volunteered, performing another healing spell.

Pansy sucked in a breath at the man who'd had his head bashed against the wall. "He'll have a terrible concussion, if not an outright skull fracture," she announced. "We'd better have a mediwizard take a look at him."

Draco lit his wand to get a better look at the fighter who lay crumpled nearby, dried blood, a dark, crusty brown-red, caked on his ears and neck. "Good god," he said, lip curling in distaste. "I _told_ you not to forget that she's a Gryffindor. If you'd listened to me and not tried to use magic on her, chivalry would've prevented her from doing the same and you all would've been spared a lot of pain."

Blaise pushed his curly hair out of his eyes. "We _didn't_ use magic. And neither did she. This was all done the old fashioned way."

"You've got to be kidding," Shannon said as she helped Blaise to his feet. Apparently Auror training had taught Ginny a thing or two.

Blaise slid one arm around Shannon's shoulders and gestured with his other to the man who lay on his side, unconscious. "Except for Nome. Potter came out and stunned him just as I'd gained the upper hand."

Pansy bent down to revive the Death Eater as Draco gave Delia a sharp look. "You never said Potter was here too."

"That's because I didn't know," she snapped. "I can sense Ginny and that's all. With her amount of power, it would be hard _not_ to be aware of her. But Potter? How in the name of the goddess am I supposed to keep track of him? I'm not psychic."

"Leave her alone, Draco," Pansy said, helping Nome to his feet. "There's no way she could've known."

Draco nodded reluctantly. Backing down from a confrontation with a Silvermoon was still a new experience for him. "Next try, we'll take our time and plan it carefully. We can't rush things; I see that now." He gestured to the two still-unconscious Death Eaters. "Let's take them by Portkey. We'll have someone out to the Manor to look after them right away, and then we'll work out a better plan."

Blaise nodded in agreement, and then pointed to the ground near Draco's feet. "Hand me the gun, will you?"

Draco picked it up with his thumb and index finger, handling it as thought it were something he found absolutely repulsive.

"Don't look like that," Blaise ordered, taking the weapon from his friend and reengaging the safety. "This is what very nearly turned the tide in our favor."

"Fun as it is, standing out here in a cold alley talking about guns, these men really need a doctor," Delia cut in.

Draco gave a curt nod. She was absolutely right. He reached his gloved hand into his cloak pocket and fished out their emergency Portkeys, a handful of small buttons. He sorted out two of them and pressed them to his still-unconscious followers. They vanished directly to beds in his wing of the Manor. Then he raised his hand in signal to the rest of the Death Eaters, and they all disapparated.

*****

February

Someone knocked on the door to her flat. Ginny padded over, bowl of popcorn in one hand, bottle of water in the other. With some juggling, she finally managed to turn the handle. It was Mike.

"Hi," she said, stepping aside to let him in. "What are you doing here so early on a Saturday? It's only noon; you shouldn't even be _awake_ for another two or three hours at least."

"Has anyone ever told you that you've an endless supply of wit and charm?" he asked, taking a handful of popcorn.

Ginny grinned. "No."

"That's because it would be a lie. How have you been, Gin? I've hardly seen you these past few months, because of the wedding and all. It went beautifully, by the way."

"No thanks to you and the twins," she said, walking into the living room. Mike followed, weaving in between the piles of books that lay on the floor. Ginny didn't have nearly enough shelf space. He moved a stack of paperbacks out of the way and dropped beside her on the sofa as she continued, "Don't think I don't know that you were the ones who put shrinking solution on the cake so no one would be able to find it."

"Yeah," Mike acknowledged, propping his feet on her coffee table. "As long as you don't tell Harry we did it. Speaking of, there's something creepy about that guy. Can you believe he just happened to have the antidote in his _bag_?"

Ginny slapped Mike's leg impatiently, and he moved his shoes from the table with a wink, snatching another handful of popcorn. "I wouldn't be surprised if he'd had antidotes for _everything_ in that bag. He was determined to prepare for every emergency," she said.

"So what are we doing today?" Mike asked, settling back and giving her an expectant look.

"I'm going to watch a movie," Ginny answered. "What do people usually do when they make popcorn?"

"A movie? How?"

She pointed to her new television and video player. "My dad gave it to me for Christmas."

In the blink of an eye, Mike was off the sofa and kneeling in front of the electronics. "Is it real?" he asked reverently. "I mean, does it work?"

"Of course it works. My dad wouldn't give me a broken one, would he?"

"How then?" Mike asked, crawling around to examine where the plug fit into the outlet.

Ginny bit her lip. "I'm not exactly sure. You must put the video in that big slot thing, but I don't know how to make it go."

"Well, you want to watch the video forward, right?" Mike asked, inspecting the buttons on the front of the machine. "So fast forward is probably what you'd push. No, wait." He took a closer look. "It's a recorded video, so you'd probably push record."

Ginny got off the sofa and dropped to her knees beside him. "I don't know. The buttons all look the same to me. Ria should be here any minute; she was going to show me how."

"Is she staying?" Mike liked Ria very much; she was a good sport, and knew a lot about Muggles.

"She is," Ginny confirmed, "Hermione and Andrew Shepherd are coming too."

"A party!" Mike exclaimed. "Why wasn't I invited?"

"You're here, aren't you?"

"I'm here because I thought I'd stop by and waste some of your time. I didn't get an invitation. If you're not careful, I might cry about it." He tried hard to look stern, but utterly failed.

"I tried ringing you last night, but there was no answer," Ginny explained.

He grinned. "That's because I was on a date."

She grinned back. "A _good_ date?"

"A wonderful date," he confirmed conspiratorially.

"Anyone I know?"

"Yes, actually. It was—"

He was interrupted by a knock at the door. Ginny jumped to her feet. "That'll be Ria. Or maybe Hermione."

"Or maybe Andrew," Mike said slyly as she walked out of the room. As Ginny passed the sofa, she picked a throw pillow off the end and tossed it at him, then ran to answer the door.

It was Ria. She took one look at the video configuration and laughed. "Gin, you've done it all wrong. Give me a few minutes." She started shifting wires and plugs, the job made more complicated by Mike hanging over her shoulder and firing questions about Muggle electronics just as quickly as Ria could answer them.

Andrew and Hermione arrived together. "We met in the lift," he explained, dropping a kiss on Ginny's cheek as he entered her flat. Hermione arched an eyebrow, and Ginny gave her a sharply quelling look. It was the sort of face Professor McGonagall would've made and, as such, was completely wasted on her sister-in-law.

Ria finally figured out how to hook up the electronics and then explained how to use them. She had to go through the directions several times, and Ginny took careful notes in case she ever felt the urge to watch a video when no one was around to work the machine. It all seemed very complicated.

Once the video was in, the five friends settled down to watch. There was a man who found out that he lived in a computer…Ginny didn't know anything about computers, so that part didn't make much sense. But he was pulled out of the computer, and then went back in to fight the villains, middle aged men in black suits. Ginny didn't think they looked very tough. She kept having to pause the movie so that Hermione and Ria could explain about robots and machines and matrixes…the Muggle born members of the audience had no trouble following the film. Mike, Andrew, and Ginny, however, were lost. Ginny couldn't understand how the actors could jump up in the air and hover or dodge bullets so fast that they barely got nicked. This led to another lecture on special effects, green screens, and animation. Ginny felt like she was back at school, instead of relaxing on a Saturday afternoon. All in all, when someone knocked on her door she was glad to excuse herself to answer it.

"Shall we pause and wait for you to come back?"

In the background, the characters were having an urgent conversation about déjà vu. "No, that's all right," Ginny called over her shoulder. She pulled open the door and her eyes widened in surprise. It was Harry. "What are you doing here?" she asked, then realized that she sounded rude. "I mean, is everything okay?"

He shrugged. "I just wanted someone to talk to."

Ginny stepped aside and let him in. "What about?"

He looked at the floor, then at the walls, anywhere but at her. "Rhiannon and I broke up."

"I'm sorry," she said automatically. She wasn't sorry. "Is that why you're here? Do you want to talk about it?"

Harry sighed. "It's just…I'd go to Ron's, normally. But he's newly married, and it's kind of weird talking about the end of a relationship when he and Hermione are…"

A relationship? How much had he cared for this girl, for goddess's sake? And it wasn't any less weird for him to talk about it with Ginny? Not even a month ago, he'd left Rhiannon to sleep on the sofa at the Burrow. "Did you two have a fight?"

"No, not a fight."

"What happened, then?"

He looked exasperated. "She said there was someone else."

"I'm sorry," she said again, silently thanking Rhiannon's someone else, wherever he may be. "Are you very heartbroken?"

At that, he gave her a small smile. "Nah. My ego is a little bruised. That's all." There was a loud noise from the living room, and he frowned. "Are you busy?"

"I just have a few people over to use my new video player," she said. "But I don't really understand the movie, so it's just as well. Do you want to go into the kitchen or something and—"

"Hey, Gin," Mike said, wandering out into the entryway. "We've run out of popcorn. I'll just make some more, shall I? Oh," he smiled, but his tone was anything but welcoming, "hello, Potter. What brings you here?"

Harry stiffened, his reaction to Mike automatic after so many years. Ginny immediately moved to diffuse the situation. "Harry's just stopped by to talk is all. Could you tell them not to hold the movie for me?"

Mike nodded sympathetically. "Your girlfriend dumped you, did she?" He was trying very hard not to laugh.

Ginny looked from Harry to Mike and back again. The epiphany came very suddenly. Mike had been on a wonderful date the night before, and now Harry was looking at him as though he'd like nothing better than to make Mike choke on his own teeth. "What the hell did you do?" she demanded of her friend.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "I showed a nice girl a good time. Is it my fault she prefers my company to his?"

"Of all the childish…this is, what, the third time you've stolen his girlfriend?" As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Ginny realized that it was probably not the most sensitive thing to say in front of Harry. Still, she couldn't forget that just a few seconds earlier she had thanked Mike with ever fiber of her being.

"Fourth," her protector ground out.

Mike grinned. "I don't think we can really count Cait, can we? You'd only been out with her twice. What's the problem, Potter? It's not like you actually care about any of these people."

Harry growled. Actually _growled_. "That's not the point. You do it to piss me off, and now it's worked. You're the biggest asshole I've ever met and I can't understand why—"

"Because you have a sense of entitlement the size of Hogwarts," Mike interrupted, taking a step closer. "It's my privilege to take you down a few notches now and then. The whole world doesn't revolve around Harry Potter, even _if_ you're famous for something you don't even remember!"

"Shut up," Ginny said sharply, stepping between them.

"I did her a favor," Mike said over her. "You weren't fair to her, or to any of the others. Nobody wants to be with someone who's in love with another person."

Ginny froze. Mike had gone too far.

Harry gave a nasty smile. "You know this from first hand experience, do you? When it was Ginny, you didn't seem to mind."

Whatever line Mike had crossed, Harry had just left it far behind. "Get out," she said in a low voice.

Harry looked startled, as though he'd forgotten she was even there. "Me?"

"One of you. I don't care which. But if you can't be polite to each other when you're in my home, then…just leave."

Mike said, "I was here first."

"I don't _care_!" she yelled. "I don't want to see _either_ of you right now, but I can't trust you to ride down together in the lift, so one of you get the hell out. I will _not_ be dragged into the middle of your stupid feud!"

At her shouts, the three guests still in the living room came running out. "Is everything okay?" Andrew asked, sizing up the situation in a glance.

Hermione smiled when she saw Harry, but the thunderous look on his face made her pause. Ria rolled her eyes and asked, "You two are still at each other's throats, then? Just go somewhere, beat the hell out of each other, get it out of your systems, and then see if you can't at least be civil. This whole thing was fine when you were sixteen, but it's getting boring."

"Sounds like a good idea," Harry said, eyes narrowed. "Especially the beating part."

"He's an Auror. I wouldn't stand a chance," Mike said, his voice no less cold.

"Should've thought of that before, shouldn't you?" Harry shot back.

"What's going on here?" Hermione asked, eyes flicking from one man to the other.

"Rhiannon broke up with Harry last night," Mike explained. "And now he's putting the blame on me, when anyone with half a brain would've been able to tell that there's no way the relationship was going anywhere. And Rhiannon's entire brain is perfectly functional."

The full head of righteous anger Harry had built up deflated a bit at Mike's statement. Gods, he hated to admit it to himself, but Mike had a point. The relationship wasn't going to go anywhere; Harry was in love with someone else. And Rhiannon was smart; she would've been able to tell. But still, it was the principle of the thing. "You can't just go around stealing other people's girlfriends, Fletcher."

"Can't I?" he asked, an amusement once again tingeing his expression. "Because I haven't had any trouble so far."

"That's enough," Hermione declared. "Harry, come on. I'm hungry. Let's go somewhere to eat."

"But—"

"Come _on_," she said, grabbing his arm and tugging him closer to the door. "We're leaving. Thanks for a lovely afternoon, Gin. I'll tell Ron you said hello." And then the door closed behind them.

The remaining four looked at each other for an uncomfortable beat. Mike said, "I should go too." Ginny looked at him but didn't reply. He cleared his throat nervously, then moved over to her and dropped a kiss on her cheek. Before he pulled back, he whispered in her ear, "I really am sorry about that. I never should've fought with him here." Then he smiled mischievously. "And don't worry about the lift. I'll take the stairs."

She nodded, lips pressed tightly together. He sighed, waved to Ria and Andrew, then was gone.

"Well," Ria said brightly, "this isn't awkward at all, is it?"

Ginny gave a small smile. "I'm sorry about those two. I never would've—"

"It's okay," Andrew cut in. "You don't have to explain. Shall we finish the movie, do you think?"

Ria rolled her eyes. "Why bother? You two have no idea what's going on. You should've taken Muggle studies. It's all right. I brought a backup video."

"What's it called?" Ginny asked, beginning to perk up.

"_Elizabeth_."

"It's not a love story, is it? Because I'm not too sold on love at the moment."

"Um…no. It's about Queen Elizabeth. Hence the name. No special effects to explain or American accents to decipher. And it's a good story."

Andrew shrugged. "I'll give it a try if you will," he said to Ginny.

"Just let me make some more popcorn," she replied, heading into the kitchen. She needed to be alone. Ria and Andrew didn't say a word when Ginny didn't come out for twenty minutes.

*****

Ginny downed the beaker of thick, rubbery liquid. It left a sour taste in her mouth. Around her, the other members of her team screwed up their faces in similar reactions. It was disgusting, yes, but a necessary safeguard. Wizards moved among them, casting all manner of protective spells on the field agents. Another sacrifice had been reported and, as Ginny's team had become rather adept at cleanup, they'd been tagged to do it. The magic surrounding the area was always quite toxic; every precaution had to be taken.

At Ginny's signal, the team disapparated.

They apparated to a clearing not far from the site. Ginny felt the sticky blackness of the dark power pervading the area. These things always seemed to affect her more than the other Aurors. She felt nauseous, was nearly knocked off her feet by the stench of the evil that had taken place in this forest. Her power pushed to get free; she held it in.

The Aurors looked at her expectantly. "This way," Ginny directed, walking straight into the darkness that only she could see. Her steps only faltered once, when the victim was finally in sight. She steeled her nerve and pressed on, trying not to think of the last, horrible moments of this person's life or the disgusting sadism of the people who had done this to her. "Don't touch anything," she ordered.

Agent Zalba, her second in command, stood close by and watched the other eight Aurors pace outside the circle of blood, photographing and measuring every aspect of the scene. The careful collection of evidence for trial would be important if they ever caught the person responsible for this barbarism.

One of the Aurors gave a low cry. "What is it?" Ginny called, not wanting to get any closer. The clearing felt airless; she thought she might pass out at any moment.

"It's Professor Vector," the agent said as she backed away, the entire thing made more horrible by the fact that it had happened to someone she knew. "They got a Hogwarts professor."

*****

March

Ginny lay on her side in a pool of silver blood. Another minute and she'd be dead. She couldn't get very worked up about this—at least death would make it stop hurting. The Mórrígan waited until the last possible moment to wave the Otherworldly doctor over; the woman poured her magic serum onto the gaping holes in Ginny's chest and shoulder, and in the blink of an eye the Pendragon was good as new. She pushed herself into a sitting position, her hand squelching in the dirt made muddy by her blood. "Ew," she muttered under her breath, wiping her palms on the front of her shirt.

"You are pathetic," the goddess spat. Ginny didn't have the heart to argue.

The camp had settled down for the evening. Golden light spilled from open tent flaps, and the stars, arranged in constellations Ginny didn't recognize, had begun to dot the dark purple canopy of the sky. Somehow, that made her lonesome. She wished there were someone else from her world here, to keep her company. Ginny was always very conscious of the fact that she was different from everyone else in the goddess's camp.

Mórrígan watched Ginny retrieve her sword and then said, "Tatiana will show you to your tent and give you some clean clothes."

"I beg your pardon?" Ginny asked, trying to imitate the goddess's imperious tone but failing miserably. She was still a bit dizzy from blood loss. "Tent? You're not sending me back?"

Mórrígan sheathed her sword and turned her back to Ginny, walking away without a word. Ignoring the soldier waiting to show her the way, Ginny took off after the goddess. "You're not sending me back?" she repeated.

Mórrígan kept walking, her strides so long Ginny had to jog to keep up. "No."

"Wait!" Ginny reached out and grabbed the goddess's arm. "What the hell do you mean, no?"

Mórrígan looked from Ginny's hand back to her face. Ginny dropped her grip and took a step back, but didn't apologize or look away. "You'll stay for a while," the goddess said. "Another attack is coming; we need you here more than you're needed on Earth."

"The attack might not come for days. Will I lose any time? I mean, will I be asleep for however long you keep me here?"

"No." The goddess disappeared into her pavilion without sparing the Pendragon so much as a glance.

Ginny felt a touch at her elbow; she turned and saw the soldier Mórrígan had called Tatiana. With a sigh, she followed the woman to her sleeping quarters.

Ginny had only been curled up on her small camp bed for an hour when she felt a sudden, sharp heaviness in her chest, as though all the air had been sucked out of the tent. It was the darkness, like the evil she felt at the sacrifice sites…it was coming closer, sweeping through the night toward Mórrígan's camp. She sat up in bed and reached for her practice sword, pulled on some clothes, and ran out into the forest of tents, expecting to see the army preparing to defend itself.

No one else stirred. Gods, could she be the only one who felt it? It was so strong she could barely move, but she forced one foot in front of the other and ran, barefoot, to Mórrígan's pavilion. There was no time for niceties. She barged right in, surprising the goddess who sat in a large chair, polishing one of her many daggers. Mórrígan sized up Ginny's expression in a moment and was off her seat, naked sword in hand. She pushed past the Pendragon and outside. Her terrible voice rang throughout the camp. "They come."

In the blink of an eye, the area swarmed with people. They held their weapons at the ready as they poured from their sleeping quarters, prepared to fight for their Phantom Queen. "We will divide in three," the goddess said. "I will take the center. Macha will take the left, and the Pendragon will take the right."

Macha, Mórrígan's sister and second in command, nodded and turned to the group of soldiers who had separated from the crowd, Ginny wasn't sure she'd heard correctly. "I'll what?"

"Flank to the right. Drive them back. Kill as many as you can, but wait for my signal."

She shook her head. "But I can't!"

Mórrígan rounded on her. "You can't? What in my name have I been training_ you for?" The goddess's eyes blazed red; she was in full battle fury. No mortal would dare challenge her in that state._

Ginny turned to the phalanx of soldiers who stood, awaiting her orders. She nodded to them, shot the goddess one last, wide-eyed look, and then quietly led her people into the night.

Tatiana jogged up and fell into step beside her. "Our Queen wouldn't have put you in charge of an entire flank if she hadn't been absolutely sure that you could handle it." That said, the soldier dropped back once more, leaving Ginny with her thoughts.

The woman had a point. Mórrígan took the safety of her people very seriously. With each step, the Pendragon became more confident that she could_ do it, that this was something she could handle. If the Mórrígan believed it, who was she to argue? Always before Auror raids, Ginny felt fear strong enough to make her ill, but here and now she was not afraid. There was only anticipation, the sword in her hand, and the cold grass beneath her feet. She wished she'd remembered to wear shoes._

Ginny motioned for her people to spread out. Her thoughts came in startling clarity. She felt the shadow sweeping closer, the evil was nearly on them. But she had to wait for the goddess's signal. She wondered what could be coming, that would make Mórrígan so anxious, but it was nothing more than curiosity. She would find out soon enough.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Ginny could make out creeping, writhing forms that inched across the plain. A battle cry rang through the air—it was the Mórrígan, louder than a thousand men, terrible and wild, a yell to drive fear into the heart of anyone who heard it. Something in Ginny thrilled to the sound; she held her sword aloft and imitated the cry as best as she could, the signal for her own people to fall on the enemy.

At the goddess's cry, half the invaders took to their heels and ran for their lives. The rest, braver than their fellows, pressed on. Ginny plunged directly into the fighting. Her sword flew. The power pushed itself to the surface, and for the first time in her life Ginny set it completely free. There was no need to hide who she was; everyone here knew her as the Pendragon.

The incredible rush of strength that accompanied the release of power sent Ginny into a battle fury of her own. She fought wildly, the blade of her sword moving so fast as to be nearly invisible. Her skin shone with the bright magical glow, turning her into a silver pillar of light in the black of the battlefield. The silver fire lashed through the enemy like a shock wave, briefly illuminating their twisted, nightmarish features and their bright red eyes before pushing them back, knocking them to the ground, sending them fleeing from her side, directly into the ones fleeing Macha. They had no choice now but to go up the middle, directly into the Mórrígan, or run away.

Mórrígan herself was the most terrible thing on the field. With each stroke of her sword, five monsters fell. She flew and ran and shrieked, taking cruel, savage delight in the bloodshed. This must be what death looks like, Ginny thought. This terrifying vision of battle frenzy would haunt her dreams for a long time. For all her Otherworldly power, Ginny had never been so conscious of her own mortality as she was watching Mórrígan and her soldiers cut a swath through the invaders.

It wasn't long now before the battle ended. The ones Mórrígan and her people didn't kill were driven away in terror. Ginny lowered her sword and motioned for the soldiers behind her to do the same. She was breathing hard—sucking in gulps of air as she struggled to reign the power in. Perhaps it had been unwise to use so much of it in her first battle.

Soldiers swarmed over the field, giving medical treatment to their fellows. Someone came up to her with a container of salve—she had a gash across her left thigh that bled silver down her leg. She hadn't even noticed. Several yards away, Mórrígan stood in close conference with Macha. Mórrígan was the taller of the two by at least six inches, but other than that the goddesses bore an astonishing resemblance to each other. Mórrígan nodded at something Macha said and then turned toward the camp, disappearing into her pavilion.

Once healed, Ginny started back to the camp as well. She'd only be in the way here. Her bare feet slipped on a blood slick, and she nearly impaled herself on her sword but was caught by a large, white hand. "Thanks," she said, raising her eyes to the second member of the Mórrígna triad of war deities, the horse goddess.

Macha nodded. "You did well tonight, Pendragon. My sister would never say it, so I will. She is very proud of you."

Ginny's eyes widened. "Did she tell you that?"

The goddess shook her head. "She did not have to."

Ginny looked around at the bodies that littered the ground. "Where are you going to hold all of them?"

"All of whom, Pendragon?"

"My name isn't Pendragon; it's Virginia," she said, slightly irritated. "Where are you going to hold the prisoners?"

"We do not take prisoners," Macha answered.

Ginny wasn't sure how she felt about that. "What were those things that we were fighting? They were awful."

The goddess shrugged. "I'm not sure what you'd call them in your world. They are wraiths, demons, monsters, creatures of the dark. We've driven them back once more, and hopefully we will continue to do so. The threat grows larger every day." She hesitated and then said, "How are you feeling, after using so much of your power?"

"Drained," Ginny answered immediately. But then she stopped to think more carefully about the question. "Not physically tired, but magically. I don't know…Dana told me once that when someone with Otherworldly power uses it in a great amount, it takes a while for the power to come back to full strength."

Macha gave her a sharp look. "Dana? This girl has powers of her own, as does her sister. We have been watching them very closely."

"Have you?" Ginny asked, extremely curious. "How is it that they have Otherworldly magic? I mean, how did it happen?"

"My sister hasn't told you?" Ginny shook her head and Macha sighed. "She is determined to cultivate your independence; she wants you to learn as much as you can on your own. Still, I can't help but think…" she glanced toward Mórrígan's pavilion and then back to Ginny. "Your power is…I don't know the word for what they'd call it in your world." She said something in a tongue Ginny didn't understand, and then thought for a moment. "Organic. The balance was threatened, and the Universe knew it was the natural time for you to be born. And so you were. These sisters…their power is unnatural. They are aberrations. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, Virginia. It's what my sister would tell you if she were here."

Ginny frowned. "Are you saying they're my enemies?"

Macha rested a hand on her shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

"I work with Dana. I mean, she's on my Auror team."

"I am aware," Macha said, her tone slightly impatient. "I said we have been watching them closely. She poses no threat to you right now. Come with me."

"Where are we going?" Ginny asked, jogging after her.

"I'm going to send you back. Do not forget, Virginia, how using the full range of your powers tapped into martial abilities far beyond what you thought you possessed."

Ginny stopped in her tracks and thought about the goddess's words. A slow grin stole across her face. "What is it, Pendragon?" Macha asked.

"Nothing," Ginny said, unable to keep the anticipation out of her eyes. "I just realized something. That's all."

The goddess gave an approving nod and kept walking. Ginny followed and asked, "Do you think I could actually beat her, then?"

Macha shook her head. "None can beat her. She is the Mórrígan. But," she gave Ginny a sly smile, "I wouldn't be surprised if you landed a few good hits."

For the first time, Ginny actually looked forward to her next duel with the Mórrígan. Now she understood what the goddess had meant when she complained that Ginny had never really tried to best her—Ginny had never used the full range of her abilities. It had simply never occurred to her to do so; she was too used to fighting as an Auror. That was a liability when it came to fighting as the Pendragon.

*****

April

Ginny checked her watch as Harry fumbled with his keys. Once inside, he disappeared into the den, calling over his shoulder, "Make yourself comfortable. I won't be a moment."

Ginny gazed around Harry's rather large London flat. He'd had it professionally decorated in warm, gracious colors. All the fabrics and rugs were heavenly to the touch, and abstract art in reds and golds (always Gryffindor colors, Ginny noted) further enhanced the coziness in the large space. Ginny suspected that he'd told his decorator to make the flat as homey and comfortable as possible in compensation for the home he'd never found at the Dursleys'.

She wandered out into the living room and trailed her fingers appreciatively over the silky wood of the baby grand piano. She had no idea why Harry would keep a piano; he didn't play and had never shown any inclination to learn. She figured the decorator had bullied him into it, which was too bad, as far as Ginny was concerned. It was a shame to waste such a beautiful instrument as a piece of furniture. She slid onto the bench and gently folded the lid back, running her fingers once over the smooth keys before picking out a simple melody. He kept the piano well tuned, which surprised her.

After a few minutes, Ginny saw him enter out of the corner of her eye. He smiled. "Please, don't let me stop you."

She twisted around to look at him. "I was just fooling around."

"You used to take lessons," he said.

She tilted her head and shot him a curious look. "Sorry?"

"Piano lessons. You told me about it at the Hogwarts Halloween Ball. Were you any good?"

Ginny gave him a small smile. "Yes, I was."

"Do you still remember how?"

She shrugged. "It's rather like riding a broom. You never forget." She moved to stand, but Harry rested a hand on her shoulder and stopped her.

"Show me," he said quietly, his breath ruffling the fine hairs near her ear. "I'd love to listen."

Ginny was very aware of the heat of his palm as it slid from her shoulder to cup the back of her neck, bared by her ponytail. She imagined she could feel the heat radiating from his body, and that intense green gaze on her profile. "Show me," he murmured again.

Her heart pounded, and she couldn't seem to take a deep breath. Her fingers tensed, hovered over the keys, and then she reached out and shut the lid. The dull thump of wood striking wood broke the spell; Harry straightened, disappointed. He'd been so close.

Ginny stood and turned to face him, taking the folder out of his hand. "I'd better not," she said, motioning to the instrument. "I have to be at Gwen's in half an hour, so I need to get these forms right back."

"Of course," he sighed. "Catherine will be waiting for them."

Harry walked her out, pausing on the way to check his mail, which the owls left on a small table in the entryway. Ginny watched him flip through the letters—they were mostly bills but a stiff green envelope caught her eye. "Hang on, what's that?"

He shrugged and tore it open, scanning the thick, white card inside. "It's an invitation to the Grand Council's Annual Beltaine Ball."

Ginny's eyes widened. The Beltaine Ball was the most exclusive social event of the year, when top government officials, celebrities, and the Wizarding World's wealthiest all gathered together to throw a glittering celebration. "You've been invited to the _Beltaine Ball_?"

He tore open another letter. "Sure. Haven't you?"

She laughed dryly. "My invitation must have been lost in the mail."

"It's owl post, Gin," he said distractedly. "It doesn't get lost. I…_oh_. Sorry." His cheeks tinged a dull, embarrassed red.

She gave a small laugh. "It's fine. I'm not an A-list celebrity or the chair of a department. I'd be shocked if I'd been sent an invitation. Are you going to go?"

"I never have before." He paused and looked up at her. Something in her eyes told him to ask. "Do you want to go?"

She shook her head, disappointed. "I'd love to, but the invitation is to Harry Potter. If Ginny Weasley showed up instead—"

"The invitation is to Harry Potter plus one," he corrected, holding the card out for her inspection. "Come with me, Gin. It would be fun. No pressure or expectations; just you, me, and a roomful of rich, self-important snobs." She wanted to say yes. He could tell.

Ginny bit her lip. She wanted to go. But the thought of showing up on Harry's arm, with all the press taking her picture…all the attention that would come with arriving with the Boy Who Lived combined with the fact that she didn't know how far she could trust herself around him…Harry's company was addictive. "I don't know."

He pulled the invitation back and said in a casual tone, "Check your calendar and let me know?"

"All right," she agreed, grateful to him for giving her an out. They both knew that she didn't have any plans, but she needed to think.

*****

Ginny dropped onto the padded table with a sigh. Her appointments with Gwen's masseuse were the highlight of her week. Elka, she of the magic hands, rubbed Ginny's tension away with long strokes of her palms. The small waterfall in the corner that gently spilled water into a stone basin and the dim light of softly scented candles soon put Ginny to sleep.

She didn't wake until something cold and wet splattered across her back, jarring her back into consciousness. She jerked her head up and looked blearily at Gwen, who stood beside the massage table, a wrung out sponge in her hand. "That was cruel."

Gwen laughed. "Good massage, then?"

Ginny grinned sleepily. "Give Elka a raise."

"If I gave her a raise every time you told me to, she'd be making more money than I am."

"Which is?"

"A lot," Gwen said, tossing Ginny a fluffy white robe. "Esme is an absolute miracle. She's planning to expand the business into new markets."

"What kind of markets?" Ginny asked, slipping into the robe while Gwen turned her back.

"She says I could create my own makeup line," Gwen said. "I'm terrible at potions, you know, so I'd probably make up the colors and we'd hire a lab to do the rest. Still," her cheeks tinged pink with pleasure as she turned back to face her friend, "it's nice that she believes I can. She thinks I'm smart."

"You _are_ smart," Ginny said, pushing her hair back from her face. "Look at all this. You did it yourself."

"Well, Shannon helped with the money," Gwen said. "Esme has also put plans in motion for a high-end clothing line. Gladrags has the market cornered right now, but she's retained a marketing firm to get my name out and maybe in a few years…I've already started sketches for our first line. They should go into production within the next three or four months."

Ginny nearly burst with pride for her friend. "That's wonderful. Can I see them?"

"I wasn't going to let you out of here without taking a look," Gwen answered, pushing the door open and starting down the hall. Barefoot, Ginny followed her up the stairs and down the hall to her small, cramped office. Gwen poured Ginny a mug of strong lemon tea. Pulling her robe more tightly around her, Ginny sank into one of the hard plastic chairs across Gwen's desk. Her friend had spared no expense when it came to the luxury of the rooms downstairs, but scrimped on her own personal comfort.

"_Sermo_," Gwen said into her wand. "Esme, can you bring the drawings over to my office? Ginny is here."

A moment later, Esme poked her head in the door. She was intelligent looking, with short, dark hair and glasses that framed her brown eyes. She held out a large sketchbook and said with a grin, "I keep telling her she's fantastically talented, but she won't believe me."

Gwen blushed. Ginny flipped through the large pages, looking at each illustration, painstakingly rendered in vibrant inks. The gowns were original, tasteful and classy with just a hint of scandalous detail on each. One had a slit up the side that went just a bit higher than necessary. Another was quite demure, with long sleeves and a high neck, but the fabric was delicately diaphanous. "Where did you learn to draw like this?" Ginny asked in amazement.

Gwen looked very pleased with herself. "You like them, then?"

"They're wonderful," Ginny said, turning the page. "You won't be able to make them fast enough."

"Leave that part to me," Esme said, brushing an invisible piece of lint off of her black suit jacket and dropping into the seat next to Ginny. "We'll have boutiques in Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley to start, but we should be able to expand to Paris within a few years, if we sell the way I'm expecting."

"All this business talk hurts my brain," Gwen said as Ginny turned another page. "Gin, tell me something interesting."

"Like what?" she asked without looking up.

"I don't know. What did you do today?"

"Well," she said slowly, "Harry invited me to the Beltaine Ball. I haven't—"

"Harry _Potter_?" Esme cut in sharply.

"Yeah," Ginny said, pausing to appreciate a dress of clingy, dark bronze material. "I'm not sure, though—"

"But this is fantastic!" Esme exclaimed. "If we can get a dress finished for you in time…I mean, if you show up on Harry Potter's arm wearing one of Gwen's gowns…" Her eyes lit up as she began to plan. "We'd make all the society pages, definitely. Be sure to tell the reporters who made your dress. I'll have to call the marketing people—"

"Esme!" Ginny interrupted. "I don't think it's—"

"Gin," Gwen cut in, "this would be such a good opportunity for me, and for the business. If you don't like anything in the book, I can always make up something else. Just please say you'll wear something of mine?"

"It's not that," Ginny insisted. "These are all lovely. It's just, I'm not sure if I can go."

Esme frowned, confused. "Why couldn't you go? It's the _Beltaine Ball_. With _Harry Potter_."

"It's just that…" Ginny trailed off, not knowing what to say. Esme was practically a stranger, after all.

Gwen understood. "Could you give us a moment?" she asked her business manager.

"I don't see why," Esme protested. "This is a huge opportunity."

"I know," Gwen said. "Just a moment. It'll be okay."

When Esme had shut the door, Gwen moved around the desk to sit next to Ginny. "Tell me?" she asked gently.

Ginny sighed. "It's not that I don't want to go. I do. But I don't know if I can."

"Are you busy that night?"

She shook her head. "No. It's not…I mean, I don't know if I can go with _him_."

Gwen silently regarded her friend. Ginny never talked about Harry, not to any of them. Not even Ria knew what was really between the two Aurors. Ginny had changed since Hogwarts and not, as far as Gwen was concerned, for the better. She sometimes seemed tired beyond mere exhaustion, and more often than not her eyes were…not sad, exactly, but lost, as though she didn't know where she fit in, as though she thought herself alone. She wasn't; Gwen wanted to give Ginny a hug, tell her that she, Ria, and Shannon would always be there for her, but she didn't. Instead, she asked, "Why couldn't you go with him? Is he an ex?"

Ginny gave an incredulous, nervous laugh. "An ex? Hardly."

"Then what's the matter?"

She picked at the threads of her robe. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, but no words came out. "I don't know what to say. I mean, your dresses are all lovely, and—"

"You don't have to say anything, if you don't want to. But I'm your friend, Gin. Don't think about the dress. That's not important right now. If you want to talk, though, I'm here to listen." She hesitated a moment and then said, "Ria told me about the fight Harry and Mike had at your place in February. She said that she heard the whole thing from the other room."

Ginny bit her lip, but didn't look up. Gwen continued, "I mean, they've never liked each other, have they? But Ria mentioned something Harry said about when you and Mike were together…" Still, Ginny didn't rise to the bait. Gwen asked quietly, "Is it true, then? Are you in love with him?"

"He's in love with me," Ginny said.

Gwen smiled. "Anyone with eyes can see that. But it's not what I asked. Are you in love with him?"

Ginny bristled at the personal question, but before she could say anything Gwen continued, "Don't look at me like that. I'm your friend. It's my _job_ to ask you questions like this. I want to know why you'll skip a Ball that, by all accounts, you desperately want to attend, just because Harry would be your partner. If you don't have feelings for him then it wouldn't be a problem—you'd just go as friends and have a good time. If you _do_ care for him, then it still wouldn't be a problem. What better occasion than the Beltaine Ball to spend time with the person you love? What's the matter?"

"You don't understand," she said through clenched teeth.

"Maybe it's because you're so damn secretive about everything!" Gwen exclaimed. "Somebody has to say these things. Ria and Shannon wouldn't ever give unsolicited advice on your personal business, so it's up to me. Go to the Ball, Gin. If you don't want it to be anything more than a night out, then he'll be a gentleman and respect that. Why shouldn't you have a good time?" 

Ginny remained silent, which Gwen took for assent. "I have just the dress." She took the sketchbook off of Ginny's lap and flipped to the back. "It'll be perfect for you." Ginny had to admit that her friend was absolutely right. The dress was beautiful. Gwen talked on, "Come in this weekend, won't you, to be measured? The seamstress can start right away. And I'll clear my schedule for the day of the Ball; you'll need hair, makeup, nails, and," she gave Ginny a cheerful smile, "a massage from Elka."

Ginny sighed, knowing when to admit defeat. "A massage from Elka? Then I can't say no."

Gwen pulled over a parchment and quill. "Owl Harry and tell him you're going, so he can RSVP for two. You won't be sorry, Gin. You'll look like a treat when I'm done with you."

*****

Draco wandered into the morning room, his eyes quickly sweeping the area before lighting on his mother. Narcissa sat at her genteel writing desk, her heavy golden hair twisted into a sophisticated knot at the nape of her neck. "Lucius wants to know if you have the final guest list."

She looked up and, with a vague smile, held out a cream-colored sheet of parchment. "The last few owls arrived today."

He scanned the names. "Harry Potter is coming?"

She nodded, moving her neatly alphabetized stack of RSVPs out of the way and arranging a new sheet of parchment in the center of her desk, just so. "He's never cared for society before, but his owl came two weeks ago."

"Who's his plus one?" Draco asked, already having a good idea as to the answer.

Narcissa shifted through her stack of cards until she found the one she was looking for. "Ginny Weasley." She was too well bred to sneer outright, but scorn was evident in her voice. "Nasty, common family. No proper wizarding pride. The ladies on the Ball committee were not pleased to receive Potter's note."

Draco laughed. "Don't be such a snob."

"Nonsense," Narcissa sniffed, poking her nose in the air and turning back to her work. "I haven't a snobbish bone in my body. Do tell your father to send the guest list back after he and the other Councilmen have been over it. It's the only complete copy I have."

"Of course," Draco agreed, brushing his mother's cheek with a kiss, more out of duty than any genuine affection. "I'll see you at lunch."

She waved him away, already lost in her listmaking. Planning an event the size of the Beltaine Ball was a monumental undertaking. Draco doubted he'd be able to pull it off, and he had nothing but respect for the social skills of his mother and the rest of the committee. He sent the parchment to the Ministry with his eagle owl and then jogged through the Manor until he reached his wing. "_Blaise_!" he bellowed, coming up the stairs. "Where the hell are you?"

Blaise poked his head out a door and Shannon followed, looking decidedly rumpled. "What? We're busy."

Draco rolled his eyes but didn't apologize for interrupting their snogging session. His eyes shone with anticipation. "Potter is bringing her to the Ball. Get everyone together. This time, we're going to do it right."

*****

May

Ginny stared at the mirror, hardly able to believe that she was looking at herself. Gwen's gown was a masterpiece. Ginny was rather curvaceous; she knew it was only a matter of time before her body turned from rounded to plump – she took after her mother that way. But she was determined to hold it off for as long as possible and remained reasonably trim through her work as an Auror and her regular bouts with Mórrígan. 

The gown made the most of every curve. A silver clasp fastened it toga-style on her left shoulder, leaving the right bare. From there the royal blue silk, arranged in elegant drapery, clung gently to her body on its cascade to the floor. The fabric parted near the bottom, creating a slit that stretched to mid-thigh. When Ginny stood still the skirt hung straight to the floor, but when she moved the slit would part, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of leg.

Gwen had piled Ginny's hair high atop her head and held it in place with a silver comb. She slid a thick silver cuff onto Ginny's upper right arm, and clasped a silver ankle bracelet around her right ankle, making sure it hung just so above her high-heeled sandals.

Ginny's skin had been brushed, massaged, and pumiced until every square inch of it glowed and was silky soft to the touch. The silver freckle charm was the finishing detail. "Gwen, I love it."

"You look like Venus," Esme said from her chair in the corner. She had closely supervised every step of the proceedings.

"Not Venus," Gwen said, giving Ginny a final once-over. "Diana, I think."

Ginny couldn't help but blush with pleasure. "Thank you so much for all this. All the time it took, I mean. And the dress."

"You and this dress are going to put us at least six months ahead in advertising. You need to look perfect so that the dress will look perfect, and Gwen has done a masterful job," Esme praised.

Gwen grinned. "I had good raw materials to work with. You won't forget to tell the reporters who made your dress?"

"Of course not," Ginny insisted, still captivated by her reflection. "As if I would."

There was a gentle knock at the door and Elka poked her head in. "Miss Winters, Mr. Potter is here."

Ginny's heart did a little flip when she saw Harry. He had eschewed the Wizarding tradition of dress robes in favor of Muggle formal wear, white tie and tails. He was bent over the receptionist's desk, peering into a jar of chocolates. "You look very nice," she said softly.

Harry hurriedly replaced the jar lid and turned to face her, pushing his glasses farther up his nose. He looked at her and blinked. Then blinked again. His mouth opened and he whispered, "Wow."

She smiled and shifted her weight nervously. "I'll be good advertising." Harry's eyes swept her from head to toe and back again and, rather than making her self-conscious or uncomfortable as she'd expected, Ginny felt a lovely warmth at the look in his eyes.

Trailed by Esme, Gwen swept into the spa's front room. "You like it, then?"

Harry grinned at her. "You have my gratitude."

"What do I get?" Ginny asked.

"My attention," he replied, holding out his hand. Ginny took it and he pulled her close, gently resting her palm in the crook of his elbow. "My undivided attention."

She hadn't blushed this hard since she was twelve years old. Maybe this had been a mistake. But there couldn't be any harm in pretending that she and Harry were really together, just for tonight. If only he'd stop being so stubborn and learn to compromise, settle for less than everything.

__

You want to have your cake and eat it too, he said in her mind. When her eyes flew to his, though, she saw only gentle affection. _It's all right. You wouldn't be Ginny otherwise._ He turned once more to Gwen and Esme to bid them goodbye.

"You have her back by a reasonable hour, young man," Gwen teased.

Ginny grinned. "Don't wait up."

As they watched Harry help Ginny into the carriage, Esme laced her fingers through Gwen's. "You really are an amazing artist," she said, leaning her head on Gwen's shoulder.

Gwen's smile stretched across her entire face as she leaned down and kissed Esme square on the mouth. The business manager laughed. "What was that for?"

"Last month I asked Ginny a question she couldn't answer. At least, not out loud. But did you see the two of them together just now?" She gave a satisfied nod. "I have my answer. When we get home, I'll have to ring Ria."

"Won't Shannon want to know your revelation too?" Esme asked, taking a chocolate from the desk.

"She's at the Ball tonight," Gwen replied. "She'll see for herself."

*****

They didn't talk much in the carriage. Harry was content just to look at her. He couldn't think of anything to say.

His silent regard was beginning to make Ginny nervous. "No dress robes?" she asked, gesturing to his clothes.

He shook his head. "A few of us from the Division decided to wear Muggle clothes tonight, to show support for Muggle-borns and halfbloods."

"You're going to cause a stir," she predicted. "No one will notice Gwen's gown."

"Somehow, I find that very hard to believe," he said, lifting the curtain and glancing outside, checking the carriage's progress.

Ginny played with the tassels of her wrap and tapped her shoe on the floor. "Nervous?" Harry asked.

"A little," she replied. "I don't know how you can stand it, people staring at you everywhere you go. I'm nervous for the walk inside the Ball; I can't imagine dealing with it every day. I suppose you're used to it though."

"Not really," he said, running his fingers through his hair out of habit. "It's one of those things you never get used to. I—oh, damn. Now it's all messed up." He tried in vain to smooth the wild locks down against his head.

"Leave it," Ginny said, reaching out and catching his wrist. "It's better this way." Harry just didn't look like himself without untidy hair sticking out in all directions.

He froze at the feel of her skin against his. He couldn't remember the last time she'd voluntarily touched him first, initiated contact. Her skin was warm and soft, he could feel each finger, five brands searing the sensitive flesh of his inner wrist and making his pulse jump. Suddenly, the carriage seemed very small.

Ginny met his eyes, and what she saw there sent a delicate flush creeping across her skin. Her breath came in fluttery gasps. Harry could see her pulse at the base of her throat—it pounded as hard as his own.

The gold tips of her cinnamon lashes swept down and she swayed toward him, just a little bit. He leaned in, stretching his mouth to hers, and the carriage jerked to a halt. Ginny was thrown forward into Harry's lap; her forehead knocked against his chin. The kiss was over before it had begun

Ginny squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her palm to her head. "Ow!"

He helped her back onto the opposite seat, rubbing his chin ruefully. "I think we're here."

Ginny raised the curtain and peeked out, hoping it would give her a few moments to calm herself. But when she saw the red carpet crawling with photographers and reporters, her heart sped up and her hands fisted anxiously. "It'll be fine," Harry reassured, leaning back in his seat and watching her. "We'll stick it out together. Remember Gwen's dress, and all the help you'll be giving her by going up the carpet instead of around to the back entrance."

It had been the perfect thing to say. Ginny screwed up her courage; Gwen needed her. The coachman climbed down and opened the door for them. Harry stepped out and then turned to help her. Ginny had been to a Muggle dance club once; Ria had dragged her. The incredible flurry of flashbulbs that followed their exit from the coach reminded her of the strobe lights she'd seen in the club that day. The flashes disoriented her, and she clung tightly to Harry's arm while fighting to keep a natural smile on her face. Harry waved to the crowd; she did too.

They walked past a long line of reporters, all calling, "Harry! Harry! Mr. Potter! Over here!" Harry and Ginny didn't stop. They walked past the Wizarding press corps, flashbulbs popping, people shouting. His arm was an anchor. _Are you all right?_ he asked.

__

I will be once we get inside, she answered.

Just as they reached the door to the Ministry building a reporter called out, "Miss Weasley, who are you wearing?"

This was it. Ginny turned around with a huge smile. She didn't have to force this one; she was proud of her friend and all of her accomplishments. "It's a Gwen Winters. The label is in production right now, and boutiques will open at Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade within the next few months." Cameras flashed. The Boy Who Lived rarely attended Wizarding functions; pictures of him were few and far between. To catch him on a date—it was a coup for any photographer.

"And what do you think of Miss Weasley's dress, Harry?" a reporter called.

Harry smiled and slowly raised Ginny's fingers to his lips, brushing them with a gentle kiss before answering, "I think she looks good enough to eat."

Ginny blushed, and the reporters roared with approval. She and Harry stayed for a few more moments to make sure every press outlet got a shot of her gown, and then he gently tugged her inside.

They followed the procession through the halls of the Ministry. Harry hadn't yet dropped her hand, and when she looked up at him she saw his shoulders shaking with silent mirth.

"Good enough to _eat_?" she asked incredulously.

"It's a sound bite, Gin. By this time tomorrow, everyone will know that I said that about Gwen's dress. Esme will be insane with joy. And the look on your face!" A shout of laughter escaped his lips; she couldn't help but smile. Several venerable, old wizards turned to look at the young man causing such a fuss. This only made Harry laugh harder.

They rounded a corner into a large room topped with a glass dome. Fairy lights twinkled from the walls, and candles hovered in midair. Ginny saw that everyone seemed to be heading to one corner, so she tugged Harry along.

At the other end of the room, there was a long table. Behind it stood wizards in black dress robes, with the formal, correct bearing of servants. As the guests approached the table, these servants used long silver tongs to hand each wizard and witch…something. Ginny couldn't see what. But upon receiving it, the guest promptly vanished. "Portkeys!"

This killed Harry's humor. "Really?"

"Yeah," Ginny said, watching as another couple disappeared. "The Ball must be somewhere off site."

Now it was Harry's turn to cling to her. His fingers tightened around her hand, and she squeezed back. It was only natural for him to be nervous of Portkeys, and he had good reason to be suspicious of anyone and everyone who might offer him such a thing.

They gained the front of the queue, and the footman behind the table, so stiff he seemed to have been starched, held out a small crystal sphere. _Is it safe_? Harry asked her.

Ginny quickly called up her sight. _Yes._

He held out his hand, squeezing hers even tighter. The man dropped the Portkey into Harry's palm, and Ginny felt a familiar pulling sensation. The world stopped spinning and shifted back into focus. Ginny gasped.

They stood on the edge of a field ringed with bonfires. In the center were three dance floors, hovering one on top of the other. Magic carpets – the Ball committee must have received special permission – waited to carry guests between the floors and the ground. Off to the side stood a massive tent of rich purple fabric tied back with golden tassels for the orchestra. The bonfires combined with thousands of candles and fairy lights gave the entire clearing a warm golden glow. Up above, the deep blue sky was spangled with silver stars. "So this is how the other half lives?" she asked.

Harry shrugged. "I wouldn't know. I've never been to one of these. Isn't it pretty, though?"

"Yes," she agreed.

Another recent arrival must have overheard their comments. "You have Narcissa Malfoy to thank for this," he said. "She's the chair of this year's Ball committee."

Harry turned to the man and pushed his glasses further up his nose, frowning in consternation. "The Malfoys are here?"

"Of course they are," the man answered, looking at Harry as though he were quite mad. "Besides Mrs. Malfoy being the chair of the committee, Mr. Malfoy is on the Grand Council now isn't he? Why wouldn't they be here?"

Harry shrugged and led Ginny away without another word. "What was that all about?" she asked. "I don't like Malfoys any more than you do, but –"

"Lucius tried to kill you, Gin, your first year."

She smirked at that. "Let's see him try it now."

"Believe me, he'd jump at the chance," Harry replied, scanning the grounds. "Listen, don't go near the Malfoys tonight."

Ginny pulled her hand out of his. "What could I possibly have to say to Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy?"

"Not just them," he said. "Draco too. Just…stay away from him."

She rolled her eyes. "The apple doesn't fall far from the Malfoy tree. I don't have anything to say to a Death Eater, don't worry."

Harry looked very serious. He nodded, glanced around once more, and then said, "I think they're seating for dinner." She smiled, and he laced his fingers through hers once more. "Shall we?"

Ginny nodded, and they walked across the lawns together.

*****

Draco stood with Delia, Blaise, and Shannon. "She and Potter are headed toward the dining tent," Blaise said, watching out of the corner of his eye.

"We're never going to get her alone," Delia said. "He's not going to let her out of his sight."

"Relax," Draco told her. "Shannon will take care of it. And the others are waiting in the woods; she can't possibly fight _all_ of them. Everyone, remember your job. We can do this." Without waiting for a response, he rested his hand on Delia's lower back and led her away.

Shannon watched them go and took a deep breath. "Nervous?" Blaise asked.

"A little," she answered. "She's going to hate me for this."

"Maybe at first," he acknowledged. "But you're rescuing her from Dumbledore. She'll thank you in the long run."

"Are you sure?"

Blaise nodded and squeezed her shoulders. "It's what she wants, even though she doesn't know it yet."

*****

Ginny slipped her shoes off and stood with the cool grass beneath her feet. The sandals had begun to pinch; she needed a little break. She was warm from all of the dancing, but was having a wonderful time with Harry. Everyone stared at him and the other Aurors who had been invited; their Muggle clothes had caused quite a commotion. Ginny was proud of him. She knew how much he disliked being the center of attention, but he drew even more attention to himself tonight than was necessary to show support for the non-pureblooded members of the Wizarding community. Everywhere he went, whispers followed.

He had left her on the sidelines and gone to fetch something to drink. She stood and watched the wizards and witches whirl by in their brightly colored dress robes and gowns, and barely noticed someone approach her from behind. "Lonely?" a man murmured in her ear.

She didn't even have to look to know who it was. "Go away, Malfoy."

Draco smiled and came around to stand in front of her. "Has Potter abandoned you? Not very gentlemanly of him, is it?"

"What do you want?"

He shrugged and folded his arms across his blue robes. She was challenge personified; he had noticed her standing alone and hadn't been able to resist the temptation to come over and talk to her. "What's the matter, Weasley? Aren't you having fun?"

She _had_ been having a good time, until he'd come up to her. "Is this the face of someone who's not having fun?"

He arched an eyebrow and scrutinized her for a moment. "Your face is as a book, where men may read strange matters."

Ginny briefly stiffened. Did he suspect that she was Jezebel? Or worse? Then she recognized the line. "_Macbeth_."

The corners of his mouth quirked up in a surprised smile. "You know Shakespeare?"

"I read a lot. I'm surprised at you, though. He was a Muggle. It's hardly the sort of thing your father would approve of." Gods and goddesses, was she really standing here making small talk with Draco Malfoy, even though she'd give her right hand to see him in Azkaban?

"Lucius's policy is 'Know thine enemy.' I've received a first rate education," he acknowledged. "Maths, science, literature…I am a Malfoy, after all."

"Thou callst thyself a hotter name than any is in hell," she said in a mild tone, scanning the crowd for Harry.

He laughed. "_Macbeth_ again. I'm impressed."

"What do you want?" she asked, an impatient edge creeping into her words. "I know it may come as a surprise to you, but this stopped being fun for me right about the time you showed up."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Go away," she said through clenched teeth.

He smirked, and she fought an uncontrollable urge to hit him. "What if I enjoy your company?" he asked.

"I don't care."

"Matching wits with a Gryffindor is so tiresome. You people have no mental finesse." Gods, but she hated that horrible drawl.

Ginny clenched her fists, but kept her tone mild. "If you spend word for word with me, I shall make your wit bankrupt."

He gave a genuine shout of laughter. "I doubt that."

"Try me."

"I intend to."

Ginny had the sudden sense that she'd gone too far, but pride prevented her from backing down first. He was watching her closely, his head tilted to the side. "_As You Like It_?"

It took her a moment to realize what he meant. "No. _Two Gentlemen of Verona_."

"Ah." They were silent a moment more, and just as Ginny was about to tell him for the third time to go away, Draco took a step back from her. "Potter is coming over here."

She glanced in Harry's direction. "He looks nearly homicidal," she said in a conversational tone.

Draco shot her an unreadable look. "In that case, I must humbly take my leave of you."

She gave him a withering glare. "You cannot, sir, take from me anything that I will not more willingly part withal."

That earned her another grin. He bowed slightly, and then made himself scarce.

Harry came charging up, champagne flutes in hand. "What was he doing here?"

"Quoting _Hamlet_," she said, taking a glass from him and downing half of it in one swallow. Gods, but she needed that. Her head hurt.

"What?" Harry was confused.

"I don't know. Don't ask me. The man is evil. Who knows how their minds work?" She dropped her shoes on the ground and slipped her feet back into them. "Hurry up and finish your drink; I want to dance again." She needed to forget about Malfoy; he made her queasy.

Harry asked, "What did he talk about? Was he bothering you?"

"Don't worry about it. I got rid of him. Dance with me?"

Ginny smiled at him, and Harry couldn't say no. He handed his half-empty flute off to a passing waiter and together they walked to a waiting magic carpet.

*****

They sat at a small table, watching people go by, appreciating the glow from the candles and bonfires, which still blazed high. Ginny felt a tap on her shoulder and turned around to see Shannon, looking sophisticated in black, long sleeved robes. Ginny grinned. "Hi! You look great!"

Shannon gave her friend a quick hug. "No thanks to you. Gwen wouldn't take any appointments at all today, so I had to make do with an inferior salon. And Elka was similarly occupied."

"Ah, the wonderful Elka," Harry said. "I'm going to have to try her out, considering the way you all go on about her. Even Ria says she's fantastic."

"Good luck getting an appointment," Shannon said, taking a seat next to Ginny. "She's very exclusive. The only way _we_ ever get in to see her is because we're Gwen's friends. The rest of the time, she's reserved only for rich, famous types."

"I think Harry's got the fame and riches decently covered," Ginny pointed out. Shannon looked mildly embarrassed; it was easy to forget how famous Harry was when she'd known him for years.

Shannon's heart was pounding, and she almost backed out. But no, this was too important. Ginny was their only hope of defeating Voldemort. "I'm going to the powder room. Come with me?"

Harry stopped Shannon with a hand on her arm. His fingers curled right over her mark, and Shannon froze, wondering if he could feel it through the fabric. But that was insane. He might be the Boy Who Lived, but he was still only human. Her eyes flew to his. "Why is it that women can never go to the loo alone? It's a mystery of the female mind that I've never been able to figure out. Not even Hermione can explain it."

Ginny laughed. "It's because we go there to talk about men. What did you think? Come on, Shannon."

He grinned and released her arm. "Only say nice things about me, all right?"

"Always," Ginny reassured, standing and collecting her purse. "Where are we going, then?"

"This way." As they walked through the crowd, they talked easily about their friends, what other Ball guests were wearing, and the show Harry made for the paparazzi outside the Ministry building. Ginny tactfully avoided asking Shannon what she was doing with Blaise Zabini, and wondered if her friend was aware that Blaise was a suspected Death Eater. Still, the division had never been able to prove anything, and her friend had always been the type to give people the benefit of the doubt.

They crossed outside the ring of bonfires, leaving them out of sight of the Ball guests. "Shannon," Ginny asked, "where…I mean, I think we went the wrong way." The area was deserted.

Shannon looked around. "Dammit. It must be on the other side. Come on."

They started off around the periphery of the Ball, the ring of fire to their right, dark trees to their left. The light threw everything into startling relief; half of their faces and bodies were brightly lit, the other half in cool shadow. Shannon nervously rubbed her mark, and hoped that Ginny wouldn't notice.

Ginny was scanning the trees. Something wasn't quite right. She felt…just then, someone grabbed her from behind. "_Run_!" she yelled to Shannon, using her entire weight to drive the heel of her shoe into the bridge of her attacker's foot. He yelped and let go. Ginny took off, grabbing Shannon's hand and pulling her along. Shannon was a slow runner; she wasn't in peak physical condition as Ginny was. Still, Ginny helped her friend along as best as she could. A hex flew through the air, lightly singing Shannon's topknot as it soared over her head. With a little shriek, she sped up.

More people, masked and in black robes, poured out of the trees, blocking their way. Ginny stared, wild-eyed, at the sheer number of them. There was no way she'd be able to fight them all off. Not with Shannon here. Her friend stood frozen, her death grip on Ginny's hand holding both women in place. "Come _on_!" Ginny hissed urgently. "We have to get out of here. Can we apparate?"

Shannon didn't move. "This is a secure area. It's why we needed Portkeys."

Just as another hex flew through the air, Ginny wrenched herself from her friend's grasp and pulled out her wand. "_Transporto_!" Shannon vanished. Ginny hoped she'd land somewhere near Harry, because she didn't know how long she could hold these men off.

__

Beltaine. It was Beltaine. And there was a fire… The Death Eaters closed in on her; the flames were at her back. There was only one way out. She whirled around and shouted, "_Flammagelo_," the flame-freezing charm.

At the same moment, one of the Death Eaters realized what she was about to do. "Stop her!" he yelled. A jet of red light flew through the air, carrying Ginny's wand along with it. Without hesitating a moment more, she threw herself into the flames.

There was a rush of wind, and then Ginny landed in a heap in the middle of Mórrígan's camp. It had worked. She stood up and used a bit of the silver power to clean her dress off, unable to keep a grin off of her face. She'd just sent herself to the Otherworld, completely without the goddess's help. Of course, she had no idea of how to get back, but at least she was relatively safe here.

Several soldiers stopped short at her sudden appearance and frankly stared. "Shall I fetch our Queen, Pendragon?" a man finally asked, his eyes wide.

"That's all right," Ginny said, the smile refusing to leave her face. "I'll get her myself."

Slipping her shoes off, Ginny walked barefoot through the camp and, looking forward to seeing Mórrígan's face, stuck her head inside the goddess's pavilion. Mórrígan looked up. "Virginia. I've been expecting you."

Ginny's face fell. "You were? But you didn't bring me here. How could you have known—"

The goddess interrupted, "I am the Mórrígan. I know what you're going to do before you do it." She stood and walked out of her quarters, tossing Ginny the practice sword as she passed. Somewhat disgruntled, Ginny followed.

As always before, Mórrígan gave a perfunctory salute with her sword and then immediately rained down a flurry of deadly strokes. Ginny fought them off, putting a bit of space between herself and the goddess. The silver fire burned within her, and Ginny grabbed onto it, let it flow into her arms and legs. She could feel her strength and speed increasing, feel the power of the Pendragon inside of her. The sword flew. As her strokes sped up, Mórrígan matched Ginny's increase in skill with ease.

That's when Ginny realized that, all those years, Mórrígan had been holding back. She'd matched herself to Ginny's abilities, teaching her, helping her develop as a fighter. The insight brought momentary distraction, and the goddess's blade sliced down the length of Ginny's right arm, leaving it useless. Without missing a beat, the Pendragon flipped the sword to her left hand.

Now the duel grew furious. Otherworldly denizens grouped around the fences, staring openmouthed at the mortal who matched their goddess stroke for stroke. The wound in her arm was beginning to make Ginny dizzy; she pushed a great burst of silver power into her sword arm and, for the first time ever, went on the offensive. Mórrígan fended off three, four, five thrusts but on the sixth the blade of Ginny's sword slid across the back of the goddess's hand. A line of silver welled from the scratch and Ginny froze. She'd drawn blood.

Mórrígan thrust her sword directly through Ginny's shoulder, cracking bones, puncturing a lung, dropping her to the ground. It was a mortal blow. The doctor vaulted the fence and wrenched the weapon out of the Pendragon's body. Ginny screamed in pain. Without waiting for the goddess's permission, the doctor emptied her entire vial of healing potion directly onto the wound. Ginny's vision snapped sharply back into focus. From her spot on the ground, she watched the doctor and the goddess.

Mórrígan was saying, "Enough. Leave it."

"But, Your Majesty," the woman protested, "it will leave a scar."

"It is a scar I will wear," the goddess snapped. "Tend to the Pendragon." She started out of the dueling field, but paused next to Ginny's prone body, leaning down until their faces were a bare inch apart. "Your distraction at causing a minor wound would have led to your death. Next time, act as a true warrior and press home your advantage." She straightened back up and left the field without looking back.

Ginny dragged herself to her feet. The dress was ruined – covered in dirt and silver blood, with a gaping tear in the left shoulder. She used her last bit of magic to remove the stains and mend the hole. The dress was as good as new, but Ginny was exhausted. "You did well, Pendragon."

She whirled around to see Macha standing there, a smile on her face. "She killed me," Ginny answered.

"Do you know why she refused treatment?" Ginny shook her head, and the goddess explained, "No one has ever drawn blood from her before. Ever. This is the first wound she has ever received, and she will wear the scar to remind her to never underestimate you again."

"Really?" Ginny couldn't help a rush of pride at the goddess's words.

"You have every right to be pleased with your abilities, but don't get too puffed up about it, Pendragon. She _did_ kill you, after all. Come with me, I'll fix your hair and then send you back. It's safe now."

"Do you know who those people were?" Ginny asked.

Either Macha didn't hear, or she chose not to answer.

*****

Ginny landed next to the fire on the side away from the ball. She stumbled, but maintained her footing. Harry came running up. "What happened? I knew something was…and then Shannon…."

"Is she all right?" was the first thing out of Ginny's mouth. "Where is she?"

"She's back at the Ball, pretty shaken up. What happened to you?"

"There were Death Eaters," Ginny answered, scanning the area. "They're gone now."

He held his wand at the ready. "How do you know?"

"I went through the fire to get away, and it took me to the Otherworld." She tugged on his sleeve to get him to turn around. "I got Mórrígan on the hand, just here," she pointed the spot on her own hand. "And Macha told me it was safe to come back."

Harry thought the way she spoke of deities with the same casual familiarity she used when speaking of her friends was creepy. He changed the subject; "You went through the fire?"

"With a flame-freezing charm, yeah. Oh, wait. My wand is gone." She looked around, but the shadows made it hard to see anything. "I don't suppose you—"

"_Accio_ Ginny's wand," Harry said, anticipating her request. The magical instrument came flying up from the ground and she caught it easily. His eyes hadn't stopped sweeping the area. "Death Eaters, you said?"

That dropped Ginny from her adrenaline rush faster than she would have thought possible. Suddenly her wand was also at the ready, her voice deadly serious. "Yes. They must know; they have to. We need to get back to the division right away, put a watch on the Burrow and the joke shop. "

"Calm down. They can't know. How could they?"

"What else could they have wanted?"

He managed a brief smile, hoping to calm her down. "It's not always about you, Gin. Shannon's family is pretty high profile; maybe it was a kidnap attempt on her. I'll talk to her about it, and ask if she wants protection. Or, more likely, they wanted to disrupt the Ball. It could even have been because you're my date."

"But my parents—"

"If it turns out that this had nothing to do with you, which is probably the case, and we put a guard on the Burrow, it'll be like sending Voldemort an owl saying, 'There's something important about Ginny Weasley that you don't know. Wouldn't you love to find out?' It would be a stupid thing to do, Gin. Trust me. You have to think like an Auror instead of a daughter."

She straightened, suddenly stiff. "Fine. I'll just…never mind. Let's go find Shannon and make sure she's all right."

"Are you sure _you're_ all right?" Harry asked gently, resting a hand on her arm.

Ginny shrugged him off. "I'm okay. I just want to get away from here." She turned and stalked off and, after sending one more glance into the woods, he followed.

Just beyond the trees, a small group of Death Eaters watched the exchange. "If you hadn't sent the others away, we could've taken them just then," Delia said to Draco. "We'll never get them now."

"Don't you ever say anything pleasant?" he shot back. "You're bad for morale. If you can't be helpful then shut up."

Taken aback at his sharp tone, she lapsed into silence. Blaise sighed. "We'll have to come up with something else. Not on a calendar feast. That was a bad idea."

"Good point," Draco said. He thought for a moment and then his eyes, reflecting the flames of the bonfires, gleamed with an idea.

"What is it?" Delia asked.

"We can get the Pendragon and deal a blow to Voldemort all at the same time," he said half-aloud, his mind racing to put together the pieces of his plan. "I think it's time that the mole is caught."

Blaise picked up on his friend's line of reasoning almost immediately. "We'll talk to the others tomorrow. A trail of breadcrumbs…."

"She'll pick up on the clues eventually. They lay a trap for the mole, and we lay a trap for her. Something with a little more finesse than cornering her at a Ball."

*****

July

Ginny got a tight grip on the cardboard box and stepped into the fire, calling out "Hogwarts!" The floo network delivered her to the castle's main hall. She tripped out of the fireplace and Ron caught her before she could fall.

"Have you got everything?" Hermione asked.

Ginny lifted the box flap and peeked inside. "It looks like it's all here."

"Great," her sister-in-law said. "If you carry it to our rooms, I'll start resizing everything."

Dumbledore had hired Hermione to fill Professor Vector's vacant place in the Hogwarts faculty. Hermione had gone through a long, frustrating job search and so, when she'd received news that Hogwarts wanted her, she'd accepted immediately. Ron was less than pleased at having to live in a school filled with teenagers, but Hermione was so eager to start that he didn't have the heart to complain. He moaned and groaned to Harry and Ginny, but when his wife was around he was nothing but supportive. Ginny gave them a week before he finally told her how he felt, and another week before she forgave him. Then everything would be back to normal. Ron would adjust.

Hermione, ever the charms expert, shrunk all of their things. She managed to fit the contents of their flat into five large boxes. Ron enlisted Harry and Mike to help, and everything was taken care of. If Ron noticed that two of his movers didn't speak or look at each other, he didn't say anything.

"Ah, Hermione. Or should I say Professor Weasley?" Dumbledore said, walking down the stairs and smiling.

She grinned. "Hermione will be fine, sir."

"Excellent. I'll just show you to your rooms, then. And Ron, it's wonderful to see you again." He shook Ron's hand and then moved to Harry, giving him an equally warm greeting. When the Headmaster turned to Mike and Ginny, however, he was confronted by two cold stares. Neither one offered him their hands.

There was an awkward silence, then Dumbledore cleared his throat and started back up the steps. "If you'll all just follow me…"

Ginny and Mike took up the rear of the procession. "Gin," Mike said, "can I ask you something?"

"Not if it's about Dumbledore," she answered, shifting the box in her hands to get a firmer grip.

"No," he said, although he was quite curious to know why she had given the Headmaster the same chilly reception as he. "You know Dana Silvermoon?"

"Of course. She's on my Auror team," Ginny replied. "Why?"

"I ran into her at the Ministry employee dining room last week, and I've been thinking of asking her to dinner."

Ginny hadn't the faintest idea of why he could be telling her this. She didn't care who he took to dinner. "How come? Has Harry asked her out?"

He laughed at that. "Not that I know of. I have a weakness for redheads."

She couldn't hold in a smile. "So what's the problem?"

Mike cleared his throat awkwardly. He knew this was a touchy subject. "It's Seamus."

Ginny was silent for a moment. Then, "What about him?"

"Do you think she'd say no? I mean, the two of them had been together for a long time."

"He's dead, Mike." Ginny's voice was flat and emotionless. "He's been dead for years. I think Dana has moved on."

"So you think she'd say yes?"

They reached the door of Ron and Hermione's new home. "I think it can't hurt to try."

Mike nodded, satisfied with her answer. "In that case, I'll let you know how it goes."

"You'd better," she said. "I want details."

*****

August

Dana crept through the darkened corridors, unlit wand in hand. So far she'd been lucky. There didn't seem to be anyone around. She'd already looked through Seamus's file but it hadn't told her anything she didn't know. Now she needed to look elsewhere. She remembered Ron telling her that they hadn't managed to take anyone that day. Hopefully they'd managed to capture someone since then who'd known something. 

When she reached the file room, Dana efficiently disabled the alarms and then cast a whispered "_Alohomora_." She'd been down here a few times on official business, and she'd paid close attention to how the superior officers circumvented the security measures.

Closing the door quietly, Dana finally raised her wand. "_Lumos._" The glow reflected off of the rows of cabinets. This was going to take a while. It was midnight; she had at least six hours before anyone else might come through.

The first few file cabinets were quickly dispensed with. After two hours, though, Dana's enthusiasm began to wane. Her eyes ached from reading in the dim light of her wand, and she began to tire. But the thought of revenge pressed her on.

Finally, after four and a half hours of sifting through files, Dana read something that made her blood run cold.

"It was my first major engagement since the Dark Lord returned." He was probably hiding out until he realized that the bastard wasn't going to be defeated right away, Dana thought.

"We were approached by one of the faithful."

Here the writing shifted as if the Quick Quotes Quill had tried to differentiate between the prisoner and his questioner. "We?"

Back to the original writing. "There were twenty of us. They wanted to make sure they had enough people." Well they certainly succeeded at that, Dana thought, remembering what the Aurors looked like when they came crashing through the Hogwarts doors.

"They told us to take down as many as we could, but that the one who got Seamus Finnigan would get a substantial reward." Dana felt the fire of her anger begin to smolder. It was a cold, calculated, Slytherin fury.

The writing changed once more. "How did they know which one was," here the writing faltered as if the speaker had choked on his words in grief, "Seamus Finnigan?"

Back to the original writing. "Someone gave us the name. I don't know who it was but they told us to look for the one called O'Darby. We were told that once he went down we were to start disapparating and take everyone with us. No prisoners."

Dana lowered her hands into her lap, crumpling the pages. It hadn't been a random ambush. It had been a cold and calculated murder. Someone had murdered Seamus, her Seamus, full of laughter and happiness and love. It had been on purpose. Turning back to the pages she smoothed them out and continued reading. 

"When we got back, they said we'd done the job but I don't know who got the reward." From there, the file went on to list some of the other things this particular Death Eater had done. A final note in the file stated that he'd killed himself a year after being sent to Azkaban, which meant that she wouldn't get any more information from that source.

She sat on the floor for long minutes, lost in her thoughts. Finally, Dana stood and replaced the file in its drawer, then gave the room a once-over to make sure nothing was out of place. Extinguishing her wand, she left the room and reset the alarms but not before whispering in the dark, "I'll get them, Seamus. I promise."

*****

September

The noise of the skirmish died down. Ginny wiped the sweat out of her eyes, leaving a smudge of dirt on her forehead. The members of her team all stared at their leader, shocked and a little frightened at the blankness of her gaze. She'd taken down seven Death Eaters all by herself. "Casualties?" she barked.

A young man cleared his throat. "They took Zalba."

Ginny showed no reaction to the loss of her second. She looked each Auror in the face and then announced, "Nimue, you'll take his position. Round the prisoners up and transport them." With a pop, she disapparated.

The Aurors all turned to Dana, looking to her for instructions. "But," she sputtered, "I've only been on the team for five months. I can't be promoted just like that."

"Promotions are given for talent, not seniority," said agent Saturn.

"But there's no paperwork," Dana protested. "It's not valid."

"It's called a battlefield promotion, done out of necessity. Jezebel got one herself, once. It's how she became Fletcher's second. The paperwork will be filed as soon as she gets the chance. Orders?"

At a loss, Dana looked at the stunned bodies that littered the ground. Her voice shook slightly as she said, "Start with the Portkeys. I'll take care of triage." She was agent Jezebel's second, just like that. She knew Ginny liked Zalba; how could her friend have taken his capture so casually? Subdued and worried by the loss of their friend, the team went about their work.

*****

October

Frantically, the prisoner strained against his bonds. Dana had pulled out her wand, and was twirling it nonchalantly between her fingers. Suddenly, a ball of fire shot out and struck the table near his arm. Ginny let it burn a moment, and then casually doused it. "Did I get him?" Dana asked, a slightly disturbing glint in her eye.

"Um, no," Ginny answered. "He's only slightly singed. Better luck next time." She leaned in to the Death Eater and whispered conspiratorially, "No fear. She always calms down after the prisoner has confessed."

"Damn," Dana said, chagrined. "I guess I'll have to put in some more time on the firing range."

One of the departmental secretaries poked her head in the room. "Miss Cannon has just called to confirm your lunch date for one thirty."

Ginny thanked her, and then turned to the man bound to the chair. "If I'm going to meet my friend on time, I'm going to have to leave in ten minutes. No, nine minutes and thirty seconds. That's how much time you have to tell me everything before you're left alone with her."

A feral grin spread on Dana's face, "You can go ahead and leave now. I don't want you to be late."

Ginny rolled her eyes at Dana and then turned her attention back to the prisoner. "I'm on your side," she reassured. "Trust me, I don't want to leave you alone with her any more than you want to be left. But I can't help you unless you tell me everything."

"Th-th-they'll kill me," he stuttered. 

"And I won't?" Dana asked, eyes blazing. She leveled her wand at him and said, "Do you know what I do to Death Eaters who are too cowardly to confess their dark activities?"

"I-I," he gulped and continued, "I don't know that much. They recruited us straight from school and we've only been allowed to do a couple of raids."

"A couple of raids," Ginny said encouragingly. "That's a start. Raids where, exactly? I'll need to know locations, and the names of anyone else who participated." Dana waved her wand and a sheet of paper and a quill floated over to the table. Ginny slid them over to the prisoner, and his bonds loosened enough for him to write. "I'll need it on paper, with your signature."

The man gulped. "You never said anything about putting it in writing."

"That's the law, my friend," Ginny replied. "If you cooperate, you won't go to prison. I'm leaving for lunch in four minutes. You hungry, Nimue?"

Dana shook her head. "I won't need a break for hours yet."

"Uh," the man gulped again, "okay I'll write it down but, could you make her leave please?" his voice got very small.

Dana laughed at that. "A prisoner actually requesting to be left alone with Agent Jezebel? That's a first."

Ginny almost laughed, but valiantly tamped it down. Dana continued, "She's about a thousand times more dangerous than I am, mate. But if you insist..." She reached for the doorknob and the prisoner shouted, "No!"

He'd heard that code name before, Jezebel. She was the most formidable Auror at the ministry, had brought in more Dark Wizards than the rest of them put together. She might be friendly right now, but that could change at any moment. And if it did, he most certainly did not want to be alone with her. Even this insane girl with gray eyes was preferable to the stories he'd heard about Jezebel.

Dana stalked over to the table and slapped her hands down, startling him. "Well then," she said in a silky voice, "you'd better start writing shouldn't you?"

"Right," the man sniveled, scribbling the information down as fast as he could. He only had three minutes left, after all.

"Could you at least attempt to make it legible, sir?" Ginny asked, drumming her fingers on the table.

The secretary poked her head in a second time. "Agent Jezebel, Agent Hermes would like a you to stop by his office sometime this afternoon."

"Agent Hermes is busy with his cushy desk job while we have to interview filth like this," Ginny sneered. "Tell him I'll stop by when I feel like it, and not a moment before." The Death Eater signed his name, and Ginny grabbed the paper away. Two agents came in and hauled the man to his feet.

"Where are you taking me?" he asked, frightened.

"Enjoy Azkaban," Ginny answered dispassionately.

"But you said that I wouldn't go to prison if I cooperated!"

She arched an eyebrow. "And you were pretty stupid for believing me."

He looked furious, and terrified. The Aurors dragged him out of the room, and Dana cuffed Ginny on the back of the head. "What was that? I was being the bad cop!"

"I always have to be the good cop," Ginny protested. "It gets boring. So I broke character a little."

"The tactic is called good cop/bad cop, not bad cop/worse cop," Dana said.

"Then maybe we need to change tactics." Ginny swung on her cloak. "I'm seriously late for meeting Shannon. Can you tell Harry I won't be at this afternoon's briefing?"

"You can't be serious." Dana looked horrified; "You're going to leave me alone with him?"

"I hate going to his briefings. They're excruciating. I've never seen anyone worse at public speaking. He stutters, Dana. Tell him I'll be back later."

"What am I supposed to say?" Dana asked, "I swear he looks at me like I've hidden you away in my pocket every time I show up without you."

"Tell him that, then. Make sure you take a picture of his face."

Dana laughed and shook her head as she opened the door and waved her boss out, "I'll be sure to bring a camera then."

"I'll tell Shannon you said hi!" Ginny threw floo powder into the fireplace and disappeared with a whoosh.

Dana shook her head again and went in search of a camera she could borrow for the afternoon.

*****

November

Ginny flipped through the file Dana offered. "This one is ready to talk?"

"So they say," she answered. "And you'll stick to the routine this time?"

Ginny wrinkled her nose. "Bad cop/worse cop sounds like so much fun."

"It's a stupid idea. Why fix what isn't broken?"

"Because it's boring."

Dana sighed. "Fine. But I'll be the worse cop. You have to ease into these things slowly."

The interrogation started out easily enough. He was a prisoner heartily tired of Azkaban, ready to do anything to get out. They hadn't even shut the door before he began naming names. Ginny slid a parchment and quill across the table and he spoke aloud as he wrote. This Death Eater planned that attack, that Death Eater killed those Muggles, a third carried off a hit on an Auror.

The prisoner would have sworn he never saw her move but then next thing he felt was his head slamming against a wall and this tiny little thing was holding him physically off of the floor. The cold hatred in Dana's voice made him shiver involuntarily. "What," she asked, "did you just say?"

Ginny shifted uncomfortably. As the good cop, she'd normally step in at this point. But she wasn't sure what the bad cop was supposed to do. The dynamic was thrown off. Maybe Dana was right; this was kind of a stupid idea.

Dana trembled with barely suppressed rage. "I want you to repeat that," she bit the words off viciously, "because I want to make sure I heard it correctly."

Ginny frowned. Still, as the worse cop, it made sense that Dana would rough the man up a bit. And it wasn't as though he hadn't committed any crimes. His sleeve slipped down his arm as he clutched at Dana's grasp, revealing his Mark for all to see. No, Ginny would give Dana a bit of leeway on this one.

Thinking she should at least do _something_, Ginny leaned against the table and shot a curse. It hit the wall, chipping the paint right next to the prisoner's head. He whimpered. Ginny nodded in satisfaction. That had been a bad cop thing to do.

"W-Walden Mc-McNair was responsible for the death of Agent O'Darby." The prisoner was gibbering now and wasn't sure whether or not he was going to survive this.

Dana never took her eyes off his face as she asked, "Jezebel, correct me if I'm wrong but wasn't O'Darby Seamus's code name?" The air around her began to shimmer with magical energy.

Ginny straightened as it dawned on her that Dana was not acting the part of worse cop, but was truly enraged. "It was, Nimue." Now her wand was trained on Dana's back, in case the junior Auror went too far. The last thing she needed was one of her team killing someone in interrogation.

"Why?" Dana bit off. She knew he'd been targeted purposely but had no idea why. This was the first person they had captured who seemed to have any information.

"One," the man swallowed and started again, "one of the faithful told us that he was in the way of some plans that—" he clamped his lips together as if trying to keep the information in but Dana drew on her powers and dragged it out of him, "some plans that Malfoy was making over a girl he was recruiting."

Ginny walked around the table. "Agent Nimue, put him down." She didn't know what was going to come out of this man's mouth next, but instinct told her that if she were smart, she should do just about anything to keep him from saying it.

"Gladly," Dana said dropping the prisoner. Since he had been dangling about four inches above the floor, he knocked his head painfully on the wall behind him as he fell.

Ginny stood over him and spoke quietly to Dana. "He's just a minion; he'll never be able to give us someone in the inner circle." She rested her hand on Dana's shoulder for a moment. "But now at least you have a name."

Without any warning, Dana kicked the man, hard, in the stomach. He doubled over on the ground and groaned. Ginny said sharply, "Get the agents to take him to Azkaban. We don't assault people when they're down, Nimue. The next time something like this happens, you'll be at your desk for a month. Is that clear?"

"Crystal," Dana bit off. She pushed the button that would call the retrieval agents and turned to the man on the floor. "You're lucky she's a damned Gryffindor you filthy bastard." Without waiting for Ginny, Dana walked out of the interrogation room, her back ramrod straight.

*****

Dana walked into the untidy office. "You sent for me?"

Ginny crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. "What the hell happened today?"

Dana put her hands on the desk and leaned forward. "Do you know why I became an Auror?"

Ginny raised an eyebrow in a silent question. Dana hated that, when Ginny got in these moods and didn't talk. It was intimidating as hell, even though Dana would never admit it.

Dana steeled herself; she'd never told anyone this. Not even her sister. "Do you remember that day during my sixth year when you showed up at Hogwarts?"

Ginny nodded, figuring that Dana was referring to the day Seamus had been killed.

Dana reached beneath the collar of her robes and pulled out a slender chain. There was a ring dangling at the end. White gold and a single ruby stone. She remembered what he'd said when he had given it to her. _I got a ruby because it matches your hair. Besides you're brighter than any diamond ever found_. She closed her eyes momentarily to contain the sudden burst of pain. "He'd come to see me just that weekend." She was whispering now even though there was no reason for it. "He said he wanted to wait until I was out of school to make it official, but he didn't want to wait to give me the ring."

Ginny drained her coffee cup and fought to keep her face expressionless. She'd had no idea that Dana and Seamus had been that serious.

"At first," she blinked trying to keep the tears from coming, "at first I just wanted the bastard caught. But then I went over the files to see if there was anything in them that could tell me who had done it." The tears were threatening to overwhelm her as she continued, "Then I found the report that said he'd been a deliberate target. The whole thing had been a setup just so they could get at him." She looked at Ginny, unable to continue.

Ginny's mind clicked along, puzzling out the information Dana had just shared. The prisoner had said Seamus was target because he was in the way of Draco's plan to recruit a girl. The only girl Ginny knew of whom Seamus had held influence over was Dana...but why would Malfoy have wanted her? He had to know about the Otherworldly power; that's all there was to it. And that meant that he very likely had already recruited Delia. Ginny itched to know, but it was a question she could never ask. Instead, she cleared her throat and said, "Don't think I'm insensitive to your situation. Seamus was my friend; I miss him too. But you can't let your emotions get in the way of doing your job."

"Gin, do you have any idea what it's like to have your choices taken away? He was my choice and he was taken away from me for a reason I still don't understand. All I want now is to know why." Tears were flowing freely now. "What was so important that they had to do this? Please understand."

"My situation is irrelevant," Ginny said, hardening herself to Dana's tears. If she showed any sympathy, the other Auror would truly break down, and would not thank Ginny afterward. "We're not talking about me, we're talking about you." She knew full well why they had killed Seamus, but what could she say? _Dana, Voldemort has been looking for me since I was fifteen years old, and he thinks you and your sister are just the pair to find me. That's why Seamus died._ No, definitely not.

Dana wiped her face, "Look I'm sorry about what happened in the interrogation. I don't usually lose my temper like that but I guess you could say Seamus is my hot button." The ring dangled forgotten at the end of its chain.

Ginny lit a cigarette and offered the packet to Dana, who shook her head. "Those things'll kill you."

Ginny snorted with indelicate laughter. "You'd think, wouldn't you?" She exhaled a thin stream of gray-blue smoke and said, "I don't want you losing track of what it is you're doing here. Emotions cloud your judgment, and if you bring them on an operation you could jeopardize the entire thing. You're a good Auror, Dana, but you were too hotheaded in that interrogation. That kind of thing can't happen again."

Dana dragged in a deep lungful of air. Her hands were trembling, and she hid them behind her back. "Then help me. Help me find the answers to my questions so I can let go. Please, I'm asking you not just as a boss but as my friend. Help me find closure."

There was no way Ginny would ever help Dana find the answers to these questions. "Why?" she asked, stubbing out her fag. "So you can hunt down Walden McNair and take your revenge? This department is not your own personal vendetta bureau."

Dana laughed, a humorless sound, "A couple of years ago and that might have been true. Now?" She hesitated, then the words came out in a rush. "Now I'd be happy just to have him rot in Azkaban for the rest of his natural life."

"How diplomatic of you," Ginny observed.

"Hardly," Dana observed dryly. "I've been there. I figure that's worse then anything I can dream up."

The Slytherin was lying through her teeth. Ginny could see it. She'd kill McNair with her bare hands, given half a chance. "Doesn't it get tiring, Dana? Being so angry all the time?"

Dana eyed Ginny sadly. "You tell me. As bad as I am, you're a hundred times worse."

Dana fingered the ring for a moment then tucked it away. "Look, you'd better get going. Your Mum's expecting you for dinner. I've got a report to file then I'm going home."

As Dana spoke, Ginny stood and swung her cloak over her shoulders. "Owl my mum and tell her I'm not coming." Ginny felt rather volatile; she was in no mood to play happy daughter for her parents.

Dana started. "What do you mean? Where are you going?"

"Back to my flat. Remember what I said, Agent Nimue. Another outburst like that, and you'll be behind your desk for a month." Ginny grabbed her bag and left without looking back. Dana sighed. She should've known better than to say what she had. Nothing infuriated Ginny more than personal comments.

*****

December

The transmitter in Ginny's ear shrieked loudly enough to make her temporarily deaf. There had been an explosion uncomfortably near to the strategic planners. The conflict was almost over. Death Eaters were disapparating with alarming speed, taking Auror prisoners along with them. This would be one for the loss column. They had been severely outnumbered.

Ginny turned from the field of battle and ran for the planners, thinking her brother might need some backup. Harry had the same idea. Together they raced through the snow toward the small shelter, its stone roof caved in and its walls crumbling. "Ron!" Harry yelled, moving the rocks as fast as he could. Ginny helped. She couldn't speak. Her throat didn't seem to work.

"I'm in here," her brother's voice came weakly. The two Aurors redoubled their efforts, using their wands to blast debris out of the way. On the other side of the cave in, they saw several planners out cold and Ron on his side, his arm twisted at an odd angle. "It's broken," Harry said. "Don't move."

"I'm okay," Ron said. "Don't look like that, Gin. I'm fine. Take care of them first."

All Ginny could do was nod. She bent down and revived a member of her brother's team, the incantation nothing more than a whisper as it left her lips. The woman stirred, and she moved on to the next one.

Harry _ennervated_ a few as well, but paused over the third body he came to. "Gin, come here. The spell didn't work."

Ginny walked over to stand beside Andrew. She leaned down and pressed her fingers briefly to his neck, then stood, her eyes blank. "That's because he's dead." Without a pause, she continued reviving the rest.

"He can't be dead," Harry said. "His Portkey would've sent him to St. Mungo's." Every Auror was issued a Portkey designed to take the wearer straight to the magical hospital in the event of a life-threatening injury. He checked Andrew's belt; the Portkey was there.

"It wouldn't have if he died instantly," Ginny said flatly, ennervating another planner.

"He's your _friend_," Ron exclaimed, staring at his sister as though he didn't recognize her. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

She didn't turn, but snapped, "I'm being an Auror, Ron. If you two will excuse me, I have to go arrange triage."

Ron caught Harry's eye. "Go talk to her. One of them will send me back to the division," he said, gesturing to his teammates, his face white with pain and concern for his sister.

"You're all right?" Harry asked, giving his friend a warming charm.

"I'm fine. She's not."

He nodded and, with one last glance at Ron, Harry took off after her. "Gin, wait up."

"I don't have time for this," she said brusquely, not slowing down her pace.

"You do," he insisted, grabbing her arm.

She turned her cold gaze on him. "Let go of me."

He didn't. "Are you all right?"

"Of course I'm all right. Agent Eagle was killed in the line of duty. He'll receive Order of Merlin, Second Class at the least, which will give his mother a vast amount of comfort, I'm sure."

"Gin," he asked tentatively, "were you and he together?"

She wrenched out of his grip. "That's none of your goddamned business, Agent Midas. You have work to do. I suggest you do it."

__

You can't just shut me out, he insisted. _I want to help you_.

__

I don't need your help, she hissed. _I need you to leave me alone so I can do my job._ She turned to an Auror who lay in the snow, felled by a broken ankle. Harry watched her aim her wand and recite a healing charm, but it shot out with an astonishing velocity, striking the man's foot and jerking his leg to the side. The crack of his tibia sent a shiver up Ginny's spine. She stared, open-mouthed, at her wand, and then turned and ran, floundering in the snow. The one glimpse Harry caught of her face revealed the panic and absolute horror in her eyes.

*****

That night, Ginny sat in her office long after everyone had gone home. She held a flat metal disk, three inches in diameter, in the palm of her hand. It had a hole in the center and several runes etched around the edges, investing it with power. She could feel its magic against her hand.

Her mind a bleak void, Ginny set the disk down onto her desk, pulled out her wand, and recited an incantation. When she picked the disk up a second time its power was gone, drained by her spell. Ginny opened her desk drawer and deliberately placed it inside, and then used the floo network to get home.

Once inside her flat, Ginny went straight to her bedroom, tripping over a pile of books in the entryway. She found the long, thin box that had been hers ever since she was eleven, put her wand inside, and threw it into the back of her closet. Then she sank down on the floor and stared straight ahead, unseeing, unthinking, her entire being focused on not losing her control.

She would not cry.

* * *

To be continued in _Galatea_…coming soon to a website near you. And even sooner to a yahoo group near you. groups.yahoo.com/group/HPPendragon – you'd fit right in!

Co-author credit goes to Danette for the scene with Dana in the file room, the Ginny/Dana interrogation scenes, and the confrontation afterwards in Ginny's office. You rock, Danette. Harry's toast in year four is modified from a toast at _www.thebestman.com_. I forgot to give it credit in the last A/N.

The fic has now ended.


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